Secrets Lie In Darkness
by HelplessRomantic
Summary: [HPHG] Full summary inside. Angsty, tragic, romantic. Harry and Hermione find comfort in one another, and although obstacles get in the way, some obstacles bring them back together. But can one part of the relationship survive? R&R!
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter.

Summary: Harry and Hermione find comfort in one another as the war rages on and when trouble occurs at Hogwarts Harry is determined to set Hermione out on her own, but obstacles in his way bring Harry and Hermione together nonetheless. But can one part of the relationship survive?

_Prologue_:

It is Valentines Day. Hermione wakes up with pink hearts already floating over her head, when she realizes that Crookshanks is hovering over her with a festive collar. Her hands go up. They meet a mess of fluffy orange hair.

"Morning, Crookshanks. Happy Valentines Day." Hermione murmurs, pushing the cat sideways slightly as she sits up.

She is not the biggest fan of Valentines Day, pink, red, and white confetti being showered in her face, or anything from Madame Puddifoot's. Hermione hates cupids, with their persistent faces and the constant _harp_ harping at their sides, and she loathes those frilly Valentines Day cards they toss around all the time.

Today, she's hoping that she won't be attacked by any of those things.

"Good morning, Hermione–" A sweet voice floats up the stairs, and Hermione ties the knot on her bathrobe.

"Oh. Ginny." She says shortly, picking up her blouse.

Ginny has her hair up in a single bun, tied together in the back with a pink and red scrunchy – along with her black Hogwarts shoes highly polished. Hermione eyes her appearance all along, horror evident in her eyes.

"Ginny, what are you wearing?"

Ginny's hand goes up immediately to her hair scrunchy while the other twitches. She smiles.

"Oh," She says. "That. Just some Valentines decorations."

Hermione winces.

If possible, Hermione hates Valentines even more. She hates the people in Valentines Day who make Valentines Day such a frilly holiday. She hates the gifts and the flowers and the jewelry and the demented apparel. But perhaps with the proper persuasion, she may grow to love it; frilly Valentines cards and all.

_AN_: A proper author's note will be in the next chapter. The chapters will not all be this short; they'll vary from about three to four pages. So… read and review! It's only a prologue, but… I also want to say that I have already written this entire story, it just seemed more organized. I'm in college and I have a lot of stuff to deal with, so updates won't take forever. I can't tell you how hard it was to NOT just start uploading chapters… But, this means that updates will be at a normal speed 'cos I'm on my computer daily and everything is already typed up. There are a total of fourteen chapters, a prologue, and an author's note in the end. So, this is called Secrets Lie In Darkness, or short form, as I like to call it, SLID. R&R!


	2. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter.

Summary: Harry and Hermione find comfort in one another as the war rages on and when trouble occurs at Hogwarts Harry is determined to set Hermione out on her own, but obstacles in his way bring Harry and Hermione together nonetheless. But can one part of the relationship survive?

_AN_: Hello, this is my first fanfiction story; so no flame no game, okay? This is a H/Hr story, and I should say that if you're the light-hearted type, eh, this isn't for you. Beware drama and angst and lots of action. And tragedy. TOO MANY GENRES! But anyway, whether you like or dislike, R&R!!!! But, you should know, I take flames HORRIBLY, so no flames! I may be out there, and this may be out there with me, but I love it. So don't even TRY and change it or tell me how much it sucks. WHICH IT DOESN'T. Now, I didn't tell you anything in the prologue, so I am now. This is simple: I HATE RON WEASLEY. He will not be showing up in this story.

_Chapter 1_:

Hermione buries her face in his neck, laughing softly into his skin and blinking out tears onto his shoulder. She wants to wipe them away but she doesn't want to lift her head either.

"Are you crying?" Harry asks gently, his hands wandering to her shoulders.

"No," Hermione says immediately, digging her face farther into his skin. Her forehead hits his shoulder bone. Hermione's arms are still draped over Harry's neck, a frilly pink valentine still clasped in one of her sweaty hands. "You can't make me cry."

There is a small puddle in Harry's shoulder now. But Hermione doesn't care and she doesn't think Harry does either. He's still clutching at her almost desperately, swaying them back and forth on the spot.

"What are you doing, Harry?"

"I'm holding you. And I don't want to let go." Harry's voice sounds muffled and tearing. Hermione pushes him to arms' length. His eyes are swimming with a watery mess as she brushes her finger under his eye and lunges at him again, almost shaking.

"You don't have to, Harry." Her voice is wavering as she lifts her head out of his shoulder. His breath is hot on her ear.

"I – I… Hermione, I–"

Hermione's hand almost crumples the valentine as she looks at him, smiling. She presses two fingers on his lips. "Shh," She whispers softly. "It's okay."

He looks as though he is about to start crying again, but instead gives a great sigh and puts his arm around her shoulder. "C'mon."

Hermione laughs for no reason and is happy about it. She knows that this won't be the last time she'll laugh for no reason now. Harry's arm is warm on her shoulder as they trudge up the common room stairs as one. His hand trickles downward and captures her hand, entwining their fingers securely.

She laughs again freely, hopping forward before bouncing onto his bed, sprawled on the wrinkled sheet. The skirt she's wearing is splayed over her legs and tickling her knees slightly. Harry smiles at her form before bouncing onto the bed with her. The mattress gives one large groan under their weight, almost laughing with them as Hermione readjusts. Everything blends to one perfect situation, she thinks, as the valentine in her hand is now truly crunched. She unfurls her hand.

The smudged ink is still visible, everything clear to her. Besides the pink and the frill, she still loves this valentine, the poetically formed words in red and black ink.

Harry is staring at Hermione in great intent and interest. She can almost smell the content in the air as she sighs into the hangings. Harry edges closer to her, snaking an arm around her waist and smiling earnestly. Hermione_ does_ wish he'd wipe that insane smile off of his face.

Something in the back of Hermione's head goes _thump_.

"You are beautiful." Harry states randomly, and Hermione cocks her head over, resisting the urge to lean over and kiss him. He's supposed to kiss _her_. She smiles.

"What are you thinking?" He asks gently, and Hermione faces the canopy.

"Well, actually," She says with a smirk, turning around completely to face him and bringing both of their hands together. He scoots closer. So does she. "I'm thinking when you finally are going to kiss me."

Before she knows hat's happening, blurriness fills her brain and her heads goes dizzy, her eyes fluttering close before Harry can ever lean over and capture her face with his hands and kiss her.

And when he does, it's a lot better than she ever imagined it to be.

"I am hungry. Do you think lunch is still on?"

"I don't know. You can leave me, though. I'll read."

"Without me?" Harry remarks dryly, but is already getting up to leave from the bed.

"Can I stay in your bed?"

"Of course you can. Then when I come back you'll be still here and waiting for me. That's a nice prospect to know that I'll return to when I come back. I'll hurry." Harry says, pecking her on the lips before heading to the stairs. Hermione resists the urge to grab him by his shirt and pull him down. She has a feeling she might do that a lot soon – with Harry and her – well_, involved_.

Hermione didn't know if it was the pressure of Valentines Day that made him confess his feelings, she didn't know if it was reminiscing the one accidental drunken night when Hermione had just leaned over and kissed him, and she didn't know if it was what Seamus or Dean might have convinced him to do after all of his – suffering.

Hermione also didn't know if he had crushed on her for a year or simple a growing musing yesterday.

And she didn't know if she _should_ care.

All she wants to care about is _this_ relationship and _this_ moment and _this_ feeling, because if she doesn't she's afraid she'll mess it up.

And she loves Harry. As a friend. And she infatuates Harry. As a boyfriend. But all in all she doesn't want anything to happen to him and that is what Hermione is afraid of.

Because she knows that for seventeen awful and eventful years the most evil and destructive and merciless wizard has been fixed on bringing harm and death and murder on one particular person. And that particular person is her boyfriend.

Not that she has trouble admitting it, she thinks, but it's just hard to believe in her brain. Back when she was in the Muggle world and the Muggle world _only_, if someone had approached her with a worried look a pointy stick saying: "You-Know-Who just murdered my neighborhood" she would run away from him.

Hermione just couldn't believe what a peculiar situation this was. And _she_, right now, was in quite a peculiar position.

Harry had dumped Ginny since he wanted to fight Voldemort without harming her. Now _she_, Hermione, was in danger of death and murder and destruction _possibly_ just as much as Harry.

A tingling sensation goes down her spine. But she takes the news not so horribly.

"I'm back, Hermione! And I have an extra sandwich in a napkin…" Harry calls from the stairs, and Hermione opens the hangings to his bed.

"I won't eat on your bed." She declines halfheartedly, eyeing the sandwich a little hungrily.

Harry stuffs the sandwich into her hands and flops down onto the pillow to see the canopy.

"You know, couples usually talk about stuff when they get together."

"We're _always_ together and we _always_ talk, so there's not much left to do." Hermione reasons scoffingly, examining the sandwich Harry gave her carefully.

"I guess. But don't you think things are going to change soon?"

Hermione's head lifts slightly. Her musings are still fresh in her mind, the added danger and _murderous_ plans still swimming before her. She smiles.

"No."


	3. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter.

Summary: Harry and Hermione find comfort in one another as the war rages on and when trouble occurs at Hogwarts Harry is determined to set Hermione out on her own, but obstacles in his way bring Harry and Hermione together nonetheless. But can one part of the relationship survive?

_AN_: Yes, yes, thanks for the mighty applause given before for the previous chapter. It's wonderful. All in all, beware the next chapter. R&R, this isn't your regular H/Hr. Oh, and special thanks to my beta reader: Er, who is non-existent so far but so far I have myself and that is working out wonderfully for me. Besides, I might have my friend HermioneGranger47393 do it. I guess she's a friend.

_Chapter 2_:

Hermione is lying on her bed, _Hogwarts a History_ on her knees. She's looking at her book but her eyes are not moving, she's more or less smiling at the day's accomplishments.

_It's been a long hard day_, Hermione thinks. _But it's been a nice day. The best Valentines Day I've ever had_. She shuts _Hogwarts a History_ and stores it in her trunk, all between thoughts of the future – going a little farther then she should.

In her mind she has the perfect house built in her mind with a small nursery room for their child and a small study room for him and an office for her. In the family room they'll be a small bed for Crookshanks and in Harry's study they'll be a cage for Hedwig.

Of course, by this time, Hermione has already cooked up her dream wedding (somewhat) in her mind and roughly sketched out her income and financing on some leftover parchment.

"Hermione, what is all this?" Hermione looks up from her trunk to see Ginny looking at her plans and sketches of home financing.

"Oh," She mumbles, stuffing the sketches away, but Ginny grabs the end of one. "Just some random rantings."

Ginny unfurls the parchment interestedly and her brows rise. "Hermione," She says. "These are _income plans_."

Hermione snatches the sketch away from her and straightens it fondly. "Yes, well."

"What, had a good Valentines Day?" She asked airily, walking over to her bed.

Hermione turns around. She was dreading this part, but before she knows what she's doing she's already doing it.

"Harry asked me out."

Ginny drops Crookshanks. With a mighty 'meow' of fury, he canters down the stairs still spitting madly. Ginny still has a bushy sum of orange hair clasped in her hand. Hermione stares at it in horror.

"Er – sorry," She says unimportantly, and releases the fur. "He asked you out?" First her expression is unreadable, disbelief and disloyalty, but then it softens slightly.

"Uh – yes, um,"

"That's great," Ginny mutters, and Hermione looks at her. "No, really, I'm not being sarcastic, it's wonderful for you and him!" She looks much more enthusiastic, wild, and a little resentful as she charges toward Hermione and gives her a hug.

"I'm – er, happy – uh, about that–" Hermione doesn't know if she should be. But then Ginny pulls away looking rather concerned.

"No, really. It's just been ever since–" She looks much softer and eager to tell her something, but then Hermione hears someone calling up the stairs.

"Hermione, come down here." It was Harry.

"Why don't you come up?" Ginny gives Hermione an exasperated and irritated look, as though she really wanted to tell her something.

"Those stairs won't let me."

Ginny lets out a burst of laughter as she looks at a smooth marble slide instead of the stairs.

"Oh well." She says in an odd voice, and disappears down the slide.

Hermione frowns at the slide at her feet. Hermione hates this slide. It's slippery and cold and she can't find control when she's on it. She shakes her head.

"C'mon, Hermione, are you coming?"

She shakes her head again at the floor although Harry can't see her and sighs heavily.

"I hate this slide."

"I do too." Harry responds from the depths of the floor, and Hermione closes her eyes before pushing herself onto the marble.

"Ugh, it's like riding on a gigantic eel." She shudders before Harry puts an arm around her and steers her over to the couch.

"C'mon," He sits in the corner of the fluffy couch and motions for Hermione to sit next to him. She looks at him carefully.

"It's been a nice Valentines Day, don't you think?" She asks sweetly, laying her head on his shoulder momentarily.

"Of course." He responds shortly. Hermione pushes the income taxes farther into the back of her mind.

"So, I've been thinking," She says eagerly, turning to face him on the couch. "When you graduate, you want to become an Auror, right?"

Harry hesitates before nodding. "Yeah, I guess."

"And I want to become a Healer."

Harry is silent this time but is smiling at Hermione.

"Would you ever want to have children? Or get married?"

The smile is off of Harry's face. He doesn't say anything for a while and leaves Hermione sitting there smiling expectantly. "I guess." Two bright red spots have appeared on his face.

Ginny walks over to join them, Crookshanks comfortably in her arms again and purring contentedly. "Hi."

"Harry! Hermione!" Neville staggers through the portrait hole, his arms full of what appears to be boils. Hermione jumps up from one part of the couch and Ginny goes red in the armchair.

"What happened?"

"Detention with Professor Slughorn." Neville says shamefacedly, and Hermione gives a pained expression over to Ginny, who winces as Neville shakes his boiled hand.

"Stop, Neville–" Hermione says patiently, and takes his wand out of his front pocket, tapping his arm twice. Ginny is staring disgustedly at the wall.

"Slughorn is fowl for making you do such a horrid and gruesome detention. Why don't you stand up to him, Neville?" Ginny says quietly from the armchair.

He doesn't say anything.

"It's been a long day," Harry says lazily, getting up, stretching. "'Night Hermione, Ginny, Neville – see you tomorrow."

Hermione gets up as well, waving to Ginny and Neville before holding Harry back by the shoulder.

"You can't go that quickly," She whispers huskily, kissing him soundly on the lips before disappearing up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.


	4. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter.

Summary: Harry and Hermione find comfort in one another as the war rages on and when trouble occurs at Hogwarts Harry is determined to set Hermione out on her own, but obstacles in his way bring Harry and Hermione together nonetheless. But can one part of the relationship survive?

_AN_: Yes. BEWARE THIS CHAPTER. Things get ugly. It's a SHORT chapter. Not for the light-hearted, I told you that before, so… It's true. R&R or things get uglier. In the story, I mean. I can make them worse because of YOU!

_Chapter 3_:

It's been one week since February 14th at Hogwarts for Hermione Granger and Harry Potter, meaning it has been exactly one week since their relationship took off.

Hermione's cheeks are nipped pink from the cold, her brown hair peeking out from under her hood as she draws her coat farther around her. Harry is by her side with his own scarf and hat in seconds. "Got it." He mutters, holding up the marauders map momentarily.

Hermione stares fondly at the map. "Do you have to carry that thing _everywhere_ you go?"

"Can't be caught, 'Mione." Harry says logically.

"We're only outside walking by the lake, is anyone going to be there at this time?" Hermione asks skeptically and Harry unfolds the map.

"Fine," He says rather bitterly, stomping on the snow. "No one's there."

"But that's lovely, isn't it?" Hermione asks him, giving his gloved hand a squeeze. He looks at her. She looks back.

"Harry! Hermione! Come here, _hurry_!" An urgent voice calls, and Hermione's hand freezes inside Harry's as they turn around.

Ernie Macmillan and Susan Bones are hurrying towards them, Ernie dragging along a rather limp looking figure. Hermione's insides deflate. She points at the limp figure in horror as Ernie drags it along.

"What – what… what is it?"

"It's Hannah Abbot." Susan says quietly. There are tears running along her face silently.

"Is she – is she–?"

"No, she's breathing – but come _on_, Death Eaters–"

"Death Eaters?" Harry says sharply.

"They're in Hogwarts–" Ernie explains breathlessly.

"Again?"

"Yes – they're destroying, _killing_–"

"Is anybody dead?" Hermione asks quickly, and Susan wails.

"We don't know, but you've got to go back to your common rooms."

Harry nods curtly to Susan and Ernie and the grip on Hermione's hand tightens. "C'mon." He mutters. Hermione has two single tears on her face but is refraining from wiping them off.

"Harry, I–" She stops herself shakily, following him through the massive amounts of snow back to the castle.

There is blood. A pile of blood is on the tile in the entrance hall and on the stairs as Harry pulls her along. A jinx misses her by inches and she shrieks, nobody turning to look since everybody is screaming – Harry is still pulling her along.

Hermione catches a glimpse of flaming red hair on the floor and gasps –

"_Ginny!_" She exclaims, her knees giving way as she fell onto the floor.

"_No_, Hermione!" She looks up at Harry's urgent face – his wand is out but his entire body looks stiff and stern. She sits up, trembling.

"Are you coming?"

Hermione nods shakily, following him out of the great hall and stumbling down the stairs – tapestries are ripped off and spells are ricocheting off the walls. Hermione screams and ducks almost every second.

"Potter, Miss Granger – what are you still doing here–" McGonagall rounds the corner, seeing both of them scrambling up from the tile.

"We just came from outside–" Hermione explains quickly, but McGonagall is already rushing past them at a body lying on the ground.

Hermione can only pass blood – the only remaining trace of wizards and witches in Hogwarts at the moment. Where could all of this blood come from, she thinks unpleasantly. She is completely crying now, the image of Ginny and Hannah fresh in her mind and burning all other thoughts out of her brain.

"C'mon, we got to get out of here–" Harry says shortly, but before Hermione can say anymore, a jet of red light zooms across the hall and hits her squarely in the arm.

"No!" Harry yells, but she is already falling.


	5. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter.

Summary: Harry and Hermione find comfort in one another as the war rages on and when trouble occurs at Hogwarts Harry is determined to set Hermione out on her own, but obstacles in his way bring Harry and Hermione together nonetheless. But can one part of the relationship survive?

_AN_: Yes, I'm evil, aren't I? Everything's going GREAT, for Hermione, for Harry, for everyone, and then – attack on Hogwarts. You should have seen it coming! But now for some more low-key stuff. I won't say there won't be more attacks in the future but not in this chapter. It's safe. I love writing. (Oh, and beware a surprising shipping twist)

_Chapter 4_:

Hermione wakes up in a haze of dreams and nightmares, images still fresh in her mind and overwhelming her brain. She blinks.

"You're awake." Harry's voice sounds tired and relieved. She blinks again, smiling feebly up at him.

"Am I still alive?" She asks weakly, rubbing her eyes. The mattress bounces slightly as Harry joins her on the bed.

"Yes." He chokes out, brushing hair away from her eyes.

"How – how is everybody else?"

Harry's face swims into view. It's exhausted, dark, and full of bloody gashes and scratches. First Hermione's eyes bulge, and then she screams.

"_What happened to your face?_" She exclaims worriedly, making a move to sit up, but Harry pushes her back down again.

"Ginny and Neville are in St. Mungos."

Hermione stops fidgeting immediately. A strange tingling sensation goes down her spine – cold and unfamiliar. She sits up slowly, tears coming down her skin.

"S-St. Mungos? G-Ginny? Neville? Oh my god, I – _oh god_, are they alright?"

"Ginny is." Harry says.

"A-And – and what about N-Neville?"

"He's – in between life and death." Harry manages to say, and looks down at Hermione sternly.

"I – we need to visit them! This – t-this is impossible!" Hermione shrieks, tears blurring her vision as she sits up and pushes Harry hand off of her shoulder. "Aren't you with me?"

Harry looks at the despair, heartbrokenness, and dismay evident in Hermione's face and eyes and falling into her tears. He brings his hand to her face, brushing away her tears. "Okay."

Hermione is ready in less than two minutes. Her scarf and mittens in position, she pushes Harry out the door urgently.

"Where to, Hermione?"

"McGonagall's office." Hermione says shortly. Harry doesn't have any winter wear with him at the moment. He's just following in Hermione's pursuit.

With white knuckles Hermione raps on the door and the door opens in less than a snap. McGonagall, ghostly white and looking urgent.

"Miss Granger, you should be in the hospital wing!" She says indignantly, and Harry pushes Hermione sideways.

"Professor, we want to visit our friends in St. Mungos–"

McGonagall holds up a bony hand to stop him. "Come in. Take a seat – take a biscuit–"

Hermione sits in one of the wooden chairs, stiff and stony until McGonagall sits down behind the desk. Harry is behind her, massaging her shoulders assuringly. McGonagall pushes the biscuit tin toward them and looks at Hermione expectantly.

"Miss Granger, it _is_ quite early in the morning and I _do_ believe that you have not had the pleasure of receiving breakfast yet, so please do have a biscuit. But stay away from the Mint Treasures, please, I'm rather attached to them."

Hermione looks very much as though she'd like to empty the biscuit tin onto her head, but instead murmurs out a 'thank you' and snatches up one biscuit after some hesitation. She breaks it into an uneven half and gives the bigger half to Harry. "Here." She mutters, thrusting the biscuit piece into his hand.

Harry chews on his nimble biscuit for a minute before McGonagall starts talking. Her hands are scarred and marked as they lay on the desk calmly but her eyes are full of worry and consideration.

"I do realize it is a hard time for you all, and your friends Miss Weasley and Longbottom. But they did not suffer much harm and should be out of St. Mungos soon."

Harry doesn't want to believe her. Harry wants to yell at her how wrong she is and how she'd be much better off with tea leaves or a Muggle magic eight ball. Harry knows that she's lying and only doing this for Hermione's benefit and possibly his own. Hermione lets out a long sigh. Everything is quiet. She snaps her biscuit piece in half.

"Well," McGonagall finishes briskly, standing up from her desk and storing her biscuit tin back into its drawer. "You'd like to get to St. Mungos, so – Miss Granger, you first." She offers, stepping toward the fireplace and handing her a small silver bucket.

Hermione gets up from the chair and takes a handful of the powder from the bucket, moving over to the fireplace. Plenty of the powder falls out of her hand and slips out of her fingers onto the carpet and Harry doesn't know if it's out of nerves or simply on purpose.

She soon steps into the green flames, the hotness licking at her skin. The ash is dirtying her shoes and she knows if she'll open her mouth she'll receive a mouthful of coal.

"St. Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries." She choked out, and swirled into a haze of color.

She landed in a small room with only a fireplace in it – obviously a room meant for floo powder travel – and in disgust, she spat out ash in the empty tin on the top of fireplace with only a few grains of floo powder remaining in it.

A rumbling was coming from the fireplace, and without warning, Harry was catapulted out from the fireplace, his hands in front of him to stop his fall.

"Ouch." Harry mumbles from the floor, brushing soot off of his robes.

"Come on, Harry, I don't even know what ward their in."

Harry staggered out of the room, rubbing his knee and dragging Hermione along with him.

"Yes?" The irritable blonde witch at the counter asked boringly to Harry, smiling lazily. "What floor?"

"Er – we're looking for Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom–"

"Fourth floor – Spell Damage – ward Hae Karnterys." She says idly, marking something on her clipboard.

"Thanks." His arm around Hermione's shoulder tightens securely as he steers her to the stairs.

"Isn't there a lift?" Hermione moans, clutching the stitch in her side as she climbs another pair of stairs.

"I don't know, but we're almost there. Almost… there… oh, almost…" Harry sighs painfully.

"Oh, there, Fourth Floor!" Hermione gasps, ambling up the rest of the stairs and stopping sharply in front of the door.

"Coming?" Harry asks, his hand on the doorknob. Hermione's hand is on his, and twitches slightly. She nods.

"Go ahead."

He opens the door and Hermione charges inside, her hair whipping Harry in the face in one fanatical smack. The hallway is lighted and cheerful but Hermione doesn't notice. She rushes into the correct ward and screams at the sight of the closed curtains. A Healer with a white mask steps in front quickly. Hermione hears the door slam behind her.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger. I have been expecting you. Mr. Longbottom–"

"Is he alright?" Hermione interrupts.

The Healer stays silent and opens one bed's hangings with his wand.

"Ginny!" Hermione shrieks worriedly, and hastens forward to the bed, immediately straightening the sheets.

Her eyes snap open and she smiles feebly. "Hello, Hermione." She says weakly.

Hermione peers at her anxiously. "How are you feeling?"

Ginny sits up from her bed, twisting her flaming hair into her freckly hands and looking onto her sheets. "I hate these sheets." She murmurs dryly.

Hermione strokes her shoulder. "You'll feel better. Later."

She wishes she could somehow be more comforting and reassuring, but she's not, and she knows that. Ginny smiles again.

"Listen…" Ginny says quietly, readjusting to face Hermione straight in the face. "I wanted to tell you something about me and Neville…"

"Oh," Hermione says slowly. "I-Is – Is he going–"

"No, that's not it," Ginny's eyes waters a bit. "Well. Hopefully, he's not – not g-going–"

Hermione pets her wrist. "Don't worry." She mouths.

"That's not even what I meant to say," She says quickly, wiping her eyes with trembling fingers. "What I meant to say is that Neville and I sort of – er – um… got together."

Hermione's eyes widen momentarily and then she leans over and hugs her.

"Hermione?" Ginny's muffled voice asks.

"I'm really happy for you." Hermione responds, equally muffled as well. Her eyes are watering.

"Hermione – my, er – ribcage is still–"

Hermione smiles against her shoulder, and then lets go, tucking her hair behind her ear. "What happened to your ribcage?" She asks worriedly.

"A hex right at the left bone, right there." Ginny says, pointing to a rib bone on her stomach.

Hermione winces, and turns to face Harry, who is talking to the Healer.

"One second, Ginny." She holds up a finger to her and Ginny nods, hitching up the sheets to her neck.

Harry turns around, grabbing Hermione's elbow tightly and steering her to face him.

"Ginny shouldn't get her hopes up with Neville," Harry says stonily, and Hermione gasps. "No, really, the Healer said he was surprised he lived."

Hermione turns to look at Ginny, Harry's arm still tight on her shoulder. She's, of course, crying silently onto her pillow, and Hermione looks sympathetically at her form. Harry's arm tightens on her elbow and she faces him again.

"I heard about Neville and Ginny but she _really_ isn't in the – er, strongest relationship," He says in a whisper. "Neville got the full blow of eight stunning spells and a furnunculus charm." Harry gives her a sharp 'eek' expression, and shakes his head at the curtained bed the Healer was tending to.

"Oh my god. Will he make it?"

"He's in _St. Mungos_. The Healer thinks that he'll come off of it…" Harry sighs. "… _eventually_." He adds heavily.

"What about–"

"I think this Healer is the only one who thinks Neville will make it. We should trust him, he's the only one tending to him – he knows how Neville is doing."

"And the others?"

"Well," Harry says slowly. "The one on the second floor thinks that Neville will meet the same sticky end as his parents. The Healer in the ward across from this one thinks Neville is a hopeless case and the Healers are wasting their time on him. _I know._" He adds, seeing the horror in Hermione's face.

Her hands go up to cover her mouth, her eyes oddly blank. "Oh. Oh god," She says. "This is worse than we thought it would be."

Harry doesn't say anything.

"Oh god."


	6. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter.

Summary: Harry and Hermione find comfort in one another as the war rages on and when trouble occurs at Hogwarts Harry is determined to set Hermione out on her own for her safety, but obstacles in his way bring Harry and Hermione together nonetheless. But can one part of the relationship survive?

_AN_: Yes, back to Hogwarts now. But more rough stuff is coming. In this chapter. We've had the 'when trouble occurs at Hogwarts' stuff in the summary above, but now it's the 'Harry is determined to set Hermione out on her own for her safety'. Eek. SO, as always, I love a healthy review and no flames. I may be out there and this may be out there with me and I may have already said this, but it's only true.

_Chapter 5_:

Hermione is pacing in the tearoom. But there is no tea in her hand, there isn't any expectant teabag waiting in a frilly teacup. There is a gurgling sound from the tea machine. She keeps on pacing.

There is a groan from the chair in the corner, and Hermione ignores it. Harry wants to go home. He wants to go back to Hogwarts, but Hermione wants to stay in St. Mungos until there is some report about Neville or Ginny. He gives a long and obvious sigh, but Hermione only gives him a dark look as she passes him again.

"Not now." She mutters shortly, and Harry 'tuts' irritably.

"Hermione, there will not be a report in the following _week_ possibly. Neville is basically in a _coma_, don't be all patient and let's _please_ get out of here!"

Hermione stops briefly, and looks at his face. "No." She protests stubbornly. Harry throws his head back. He stuffs his hands in his pocket moodily.

"I hate hospitals." He grumbles sulkily, eyeing the corner of the wall glumly.

"Well, if you're going to be all gloomy, _please_, you don't have to sit and wait with me in the tearoom." Hermione says sharply, and crosses over to the counter, pouring the kettle's contents into a teacup. She hoists herself up onto the granite counter and sips.

"Mmm, peppermint."

Harry gets up from the chair and slumps over. "Is there white tea?" He grumbles. Hermione grins and scans the teabags.

"No."

"Peach tea?"

"No."

"Raspberry?"

"No." Her hand emerges from the tea tray.

"What _is_ there?"

"Peppermint tea." She says, smiling, and thrusts a mini cup into his fingers.

Harry stares into the depths of his cup. "I hate peppermint tea."

"Well then," Hermione says impatiently, and grabs the tea out of his hands, draining it into the sink next to her. "We took care of that."

Harry's hand is still shaped as though holding a teacup. He's looking at Hermione as though he'd like to hit her, but is refraining from doing so. He closes his mouth. He sits on the counter with Hermione.

"I want to stay here." Hermione says firmly, looking at her knees. She feels a strong arm around her shoulder pull her closer.

"'Mione…" He said comfortably. "We can always retu–"

"Ta." Hermione said, holding up a hand to stop him. She shook her head, and slid off of the counter slowly.

Harry closed his eyes. "Hermione," He said quickly. "Let me clear this up."

"No. I'm staying. Ginny and Neville are hurt and Neville is–" She stopped herself. "Well, not in a human condition to really talk to us or anything."

"Oh, who did it?"

"What?" Hermione says.

"Who hurt him? Who hurt Neville in particular?"

Hermione stays silent, and instead tugs on his arm, heading back down on the lift, leading him back to the floo powder room.

"Oh, finally, are we going?"

"Yes." Hermione says finally, and sprinkles some floo powder into his palm.

Harry rolls his eyes as he steps into the fireplace, flames roaring for one second and only ashes remaining the next.

Hermione is back at Hogwarts. Hermione is back in the library, Harry at her side, not saying anything to her but only giving her occasional glances as she determinedly reads.

"Are you okay?" He whispers soothingly, his hands touching hers.

Hermione's eyes are still on the word '_study_' in her book, but they aren't moving on. Her face flickers over to his worried one. A floorboard creaks next to her as she readjusts in her chair uncomfortably.

"Yes. Do you think Ginny and Neville are?"

Harry looks at the table, his hands back in his own possession and no longer touching hers. Hermione can sense that he has been trying to avoid this subject, and is refraining from getting up and leaving. His hand twitches.

"Hermione," He mumbles. "I need to talk to you."

She didn't think that he would give her a 'talk' about being worried about her friends. _He_ was the one who asked to be her boyfriend, knowing her personality and what he was getting himself into. _He_ was the one who made friends with Ron who was the brother of Ginny, therefore making Hermione and Ginny friends. _He_ was the one who told Hermione that Ginny and Neville would need comforting in St. Mungos. He could have lied for her own benefit and said that they were fine, that Neville was _not_ in a literal coma and that Ginny did _not_ suffer a major injury. But he _did_.

Hermione glares in his direction. "A talk?" She asks shortly.

Harry looks at her eyes stonily but doesn't seem to have the courage to do so for long. His eyes are back to his hands again the next second.

"Remember last year when the Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts?"

Hermione doesn't want to discuss this, and thinks that this is an obvious question, but Harry is definitely waiting for an answer, looking at her face uncertainly after some time.

"Of course, Harry."

"Well, remember how I broke up with Ginny?"

Hermione _really_ doesn't want to discuss this. She's afraid where it will lead to.

"Er – _yes_."

"Do you know _why_?" He asks.

They've gotten to the point that Harry has been stumbling to get to. Staggering, if you will. She blinks. They've gone from _remembering_ to _knowing_. She doesn't know _everything_, even though she wants to, and she's not sure if Harry is just testing if she really knows everything. Now is the point when she wants to stay silent. Hermione can only hope that Harry will just assume the obvious answer and move on.

"No." She twitches away from her book.

"Well," He says again. "It was because Voldemort is after me."

Hermione feels incredibly stupid. She feels like Harry is talking to her as though she is a Muggle learning the basics of wizardry and this world. This familiar world that she doesn't want to be on or care about right now. It's a cruel world.

"I know that."

"And by – er, being with you – I'm putting you in danger too. I put Ginny in danger when I went out with her. That's why – uh, I'm not going out with her now," He blinks nervously. "Besides the fact that I don't like her that way anymore."

Hermione knew this from the very beginning. She remembers herself on that bed – smiling a ridiculously too much amount, and contemplating the very worst like it was nothing. Now it was coming to an end in front of her. It wasn't too long ago that she somewhat worriless lying on that bed with Harry, and now it was so very different. And everything was going… going…

"You're making this really hard for me."

Hermione's eyes widen at his hair. She wants to say 'that's my intention' even though it isn't.

Going…

"What?"

"You know where I'm going with this," He says slowly, looking at the table. "I know you do. Can't you just say something about it?"

Going…

Hermione strings a loose strand of her hair into her fingers. "I'm still not sure what you're telling me. I don't want to know, either."

"Hermione–"

"Please, don't. Just stop." Hermione pleads, looking at his eyes imploringly.

"I can't do it."

Gone.

Hermione has a large 'gong' from a drum in her head, some sort of finality striking her like a slap on her face. Her hands are in her own lap – clammy and cold all of a sudden.

"You're so foolish." Hermione says icily, standing up.

"Hermione, please, this is for you–"

"Oh, being noble, are you?" She says sardonically. "Being modest?" She is standing, her bag on her shoulder and her eyes blazing.

"This is–"

"Just shut up. I don't want to hear you're excuses. You think I didn't know what I was getting myself into when I agreed to your offer? Your plead? You don't think that's what ran through my head every time I hugged you or kissed you or looked at you? And I only thought that it was worth it! And apparently–" Hermione wipes a tear out of her firing eyes. She doesn't want to cry now. "–it WASN'T!"

Harry stands up. "You would have risked your life–"

"You just don't get it, do you?" Hermione nearly yells. "I don't care about dying or getting hurt or being murdered! I care about being with _you_!"

Harry still isn't crying. Hermione is taking it as a personal insult.

Before he can respond, she whirls around, her hair whipping her forehead, and sweeps very dramatically out of the library.

Hermione hasn't felt so angry in her life. She barely ever yells, screams, or insults, especially at Harry. She's only upset right now. She's not incompetent and apparently Harry thinks she is. Her eyes are wet – a pool of something blurry.

Her brain knows the truth and she doesn't want to know it – and not only because she's riled up and angry. Because it's something that's she doesn't want to confess, especially now that she shouldn't even think it.

Her hands are covering her face; her elbows are resting on her knees. She's crying up a stream, salty tears pouring onto her hands since she's not letting them leak onto her. She doesn't want a memory of this reminding her. She's always in control of her tears and always finding a way to be confident about them.

Going… going… _gone_.

He was gone and she was in love with him.

Reviewer File:

_JuliaKerns5_: At least someone appreciates this. :D

_RaiKimTomBoY_: Okay, what the crap?? I _said_ on my profile I hate flames. I _said _in the first chapter that Ron would NOT be here. I hate Ron. If you'll be bored by that, then get the crap off of this story. I said that in the beginning that there would be NO RON. Read a Ron/Hermione story if _that's_ what your about.


	7. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter.

Summary: Harry and Hermione find comfort in one another as the war rages on and when trouble occurs at Hogwarts Harry is determined to set Hermione out on her own, but obstacles in his way bring Harry and Hermione together nonetheless. But can one part of the relationship survive?

_AN_: Oh, and back to St. Mungos. Again. Heave-ho, we're not getting anywhere, are we? Well, you aren't. Heheheh. I know the rest of this story. You don't. Heheheh.

_Chapter 6_:

Hermione has a handful of floo powder in her hand, the soft feel of it tickling the tips of her fingers.

"Go ahead, Miss Granger."

Hermione gives one more look to the back of McGonagall's head before stepping into the fire. It has never felt so cold to her before.

"St. Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries." She says carefully, and her stomach lurches.

She would have vomited on the carpet if it wouldn't have been the situation she was in right now. Hermione swallowed on her tongue, something grinding between her teeth. She shuffles her feet. Soot puffs up at the speckled clean floor.

Hermione would give anything to be in Ginny's situation right now. Lying in a comfortable bed, not worrying about anything large, or having to worry to about a relationship since _her_ boyfriend was not conscious.

What is she talking about? What she is thinking? Why is she listening to this insane dribble that she's feeding herself?

"And you would be Miss Granger, I presume?"

"I've been here before." She says shortly, looking at the Healer they had met not that long ago.

"That's right. Is Mr. Potter here?" The Healer asks, and Hermione winces slightly. He seemed somewhat eager.

"No." She says coldly, and brushes past him to the curtained bed, where Ginny is presumably lying.

Hermione doesn't knock or punch the hangings in a way to show Ginny that she's here; she simply rips them open and collapses on the edge of the bed.

A lunch tray on her bed goes flying, the silver platter falling pitifully off the bed and its accompanied sandwich lying next to it with a sinister smack. Ginny looks at her lunch, on the floor and destroyed, as the Healer drops his clipboard, and she puts her juice down on the table next to her.

"Er – nice to see you, Hermione." She says, still looking rather mournfully at the sandwich, and Hermione blushes.

"Sorry about that." The Healer picks up his clipboard, giving Hermione a rather nasty look and shuffling off to look to the other patients.

"That's fine," Ginny says with a sigh, and smiles over at Hermione. "So. Why are you here?"

Hermione looks at Ginny's smiling face and opens her mouth. She wants to say that she is just worried about her and that she simply wants to see how she is doing, because she doesn't want to tell her anything else. Something wet waters her eyes.

"He broke up with me." She blurts out pathetically, putting her face into her hands and bringing her legs up to rest on the bed. Ginny sighs sympathetically and pats her on the shoulder.

"Hermione, if he broke up with you–"

Hermione wails loudly, shaking her head in her palm. "No, please," Her muffled voice says. "I know what you're going to say. Harry is being modest and noble without wanting to, but he is anyway and by being constantly noble, he's become an–"

Ginny's hand falls off of her shoulder. "Yes, yes, we know what he is. And you came here for comfort?"

Hermione contemplates this question, her eyes blinking in salty tears in her hand. Yes, she did come here for comfort, but she won't say this. Ginny is the one in St. Mungos, with a broken ribcage and rather fractured bones in her wrist.

"Of course I didn't. I came to see you, and – er, the friendly Healer." Hermione says awkwardly, looking at Ginny's face as innocently as possible.

"Hermione, there really isn't any need for alibis or anything of the sort."

"It's not an alibi." She says immediately.

"Of course it isn't." Ginny says sarcastically, and gives her a brief hug.

"Ginny–"

"You'll make it through. I am."

Hermione gives her a grin before getting off of the bridge, the Healer returning to her bed.

"Your new lunch tray, Miss Weasley." He shoots Hermione a dark look as he gives her the tray, and sweeps onto his heel away from the bed.

"I should go."

The Healer opens the door for Hermione as she waves a goodbye to Ginny and leaves the ward, her mind swimming with more thoughts and unpleasant images than it had been before she had arrived. If possible, she loves Harry Potter even more.

Hermione makes her way to the stairs, climbing up to the fifth level to go to the tearoom. It's completely empty when she pushes open the door and makes her way to the teabags, grabbing the first package in her sight and ripping it open.

Hermione had her teacup in her hands a minute later, rather preoccupied with other matters, as she takes her first sip and spits it out again into the sink.

She looks into the amass of clear and boiling water, sighing.

Hermione empties the water into the sink, letting the teacup _drip_, _drip_, _drip_.

Going… going… gone.

Her tears are dripping out like the water in the teacup, _drip_, _drip_, _drip._

The teacup is empty. Just like her.

Hermione doesn't leave St. Mungos until she has had four cups of tea and a visit to Ginny again. It's past six when she goes back to the floo powder room, feeling exhausted and tired and extremely worn out. Her hands secure a large amount of powder in her hands and she steps into the fireplace.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She doesn't want to go back, but she has to. She's already said the words, she can't take them back. Her elbows knock against the hard brick of the fireplace and graze her skin, while her brain is spinning at top speed. She would vomit into the coals and onto her ashed-up feet if she wouldn't know better.

"Good evening, Miss Granger. Please, try not to knock any soot or coal onto the carpet. I had it cleaned yesterday."

Hermione nods curtly, brushing ash off of her shirt, and slowly exiting the office.

What she needs is a good long shower, or relaxation, or anything that might make her more comfortable in this school. She's open to anything and anybody, and that thought almost scares her.

"Hermione, where have you been?"

She turns around as steadily as she can, facing the last person she wants to face right now.

"St. Mungos. Excuse me, now, would you?"

Harry holds out an arm to stop her. "Wait."

Hermione shuts her eyes and gulps. She doesn't want to deal with this now. No, not now, she can't take that now.

"I have somewhere to be." She mutters through grinded teeth. Hermione wants to cry, out onto his shoulder – she needs comfort. And it doesn't matter who.

"Hermione, can I talk to you?"

She doesn't want to talk to him, to be talked to, she wants to melt into him, or slowly – no, quickly, drip away right now. She's not up for it, she's weak, she's _sick_.

"Not now, please, I really need to be somewhere." She's talking to him like he's an irritable teacher, or in-law, or maybe even unorthodox and peculiar neighbor.

His eyes look desperate at the moment. Hermione is sure hers look just the same. Her stomach lurches.

"Oh," She says. "Oh dear god."

Harry steps back just in time as Hermione throws up on the tiles.

"Yeah…" He says in a rather disgusted voice. Hermione's eyes blink multiple times. "Hermione, what have you been doing?"

His voice sounds revolted and rather surprised. Hermione takes it as an insult.

"Nothing," She says coldly, and staggers to the wall for support. "Oh god."

Harry moves over to her, sliding a strong hand around her waist. "You need some rest, 'Mione." He says quietly, and Hermione leans into his arm.

"I don't entirely agree."

"You just vomited on the tiles, Hermione. I think I'm the right one this time." He is scoffing. Hermione doesn't like to be scoffed at, and she doesn't like to be the lower one. She doesn't like to be wrong. She's always right.

"I don't need rest or sleep." She says persistently, but is still walking along with him.

"Then just relax. Read a book and study."

"Fine."

There is a rather uncomfortable silence around them, Hermione still hobbling along with the help of his arm, feeling dizzier with every step.

"Why were you at St. Mungos?"

"I visited Ginny. And the corpse that is Neville." Hermione says shortly.

"Of course."

They have reached the portrait hole. Harry, after stopping at the stairs of the boys' dormitories, takes Hermione's legs in his other arm and carries her up the stairs, laying her carefully on his own bed.

And in his possession and care, Hermione feels the opposite of being in a dangerous position. She feels loved. She feels safe. And now, she's dreading the morning when that will turn around.


	8. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter.

Summary: Harry and Hermione find comfort in one another as the war rages on and when trouble occurs at Hogwarts Harry is determined to set Hermione out on her own, but obstacles in his way bring Harry and Hermione together nonetheless. But can one part of the relationship survive?

_AN_: Aha, more than trouble is today… Muahahaha!! Er, this is the 'obstacles' part in the summary. 'Certain _obstacles_…' this chapter is the pre part to certain obstacles. Next chapter is the second part to 'certain obstacles'. Haha. Expect more. Keep on reviewing, please.

_Chapter 7_:

Hermione is still awake an hour after Harry had laid her on his bed. She hasn't had the nerve to open her eyes to see anything – what time it is, or where Harry is going to sleep. She can hear an owl hoot in the distance. She can hear a cricket chirp and a floorboard creak. But she still feels safe.

There are footsteps softly coming up the stairs now. Hermione's body stiffens, her eyes flickering uncertainly.

"Hermione?" Someone says gently. The footsteps stop. She doesn't say anything, her eyes still closed a little too tightly.

The footsteps come over to the bed which she is laying in – Harry's bed. She can even smell Harry at the moment. But right now the smell is rather stronger and wafting across her nose. She can't wipe a small grin off of her face.

Somebody seems to slip into his bed – the smell of ink and something musky, even the little scent of Honeyduke's chocolate and the weathered wood of a broomstick. It's Harry.

Hermione twitches, her mind blank. Harry moves over slightly.

Her eyes snap open, seeing darkness and darkness only, blackness and only a small ray of light falling in between the hangings. Harry's watch is still on his wrist. It's past midnight. Her mind is wide-awake.

Hermione lies there for thirty minutes until her mind shuts down and she falls into a light sleep.

"_Here we are." Harry says cheerfully, stopping front of a glass door. Hermione unbuttons her jacket, snow falling onto the already icy heaps of white blankets, flurries falling into her hair. Harry holds open the door, a small tinkling bell sounding. _

"_Oh, it's so lovely." Hermione hears herself say. She recognizes the smashed together tables, the white Victorian chairs, the patio-like tables, the stained glass windows, and the small grubby cupids flying over the tables and swinging slightly on the shimmering chandeliers. She usually hates this shop – why is she loving it?_

_A waft of cinnamon overtakes her as Harry nudges her into a chair, smiling over to her over a pink candle and the sugar bowl. Confetti falls onto the candle from above, and it extinguishes with a fiery sizzle. Hermione giggles._

"_What can I get you, m'dears?"_

"_Peppermint tea, please." Hermione says in a sweet voice._

"_Hot chocolate."_

_The cupid smiles at them from above, a sort of evil and devilish grin now that she notices it, but she doesn't seem to care._

"_I love being here." Harry says in a bright voice, caressing her hand on the table._

"_I love you, Harry." Hermione says._

_Harry looks at her in a peculiar way, grinning slightly and his eyes sparkling. "I love you, too."_

_He leans in to kiss her, Hermione closing her eyes and leaning forward across the table as well, knocking over the sugar bowl. He smiles, but his lips never meet hers._

Someone grunts from the bed next to hers and Hermione is lifted like a snap out of her dream. She gasps, and Harry rolls next to her subconsciously.

"Harry," She says urgently, and prods him in the shoulder. "_Harry_. I'm awake."

Harry turns around to face the ceiling and stretches. "Obviously you are. Wassamadder?"

"I can't sleep." She says bluntly.

"Presumable," He says shortly, and rubs his eyes. He turns to face her. "Okay. What am I supposed to do?"

"Keep me company."

"Oh, so I have to be awake now too?" Harry asks irritably.

"Yes," Hermione says. "So what do you want to do?"

"Sleep, truthfully."

Hermione 'tuts' impatiently. "Come on."

"Fine," He says shortly. "I guess we could just talk."

"In the dark?" Hermione asks skeptically, and gets up slowly, slipping out from the hangings.

"Yes, where else?" Harry asks, getting up also. Hermione makes a move to go down the stairs.

"The common room. Bring your wand." She says idly, and steps silently down the stairs.

Harry's wand is aloft as he trudges down the stairs and collapses into an armchair.

"Light it." Hermione instructs, mentioning his wand.

"Fine. _Lumos!_" A small tip of light forms on the end of his wand. "Now what?"

"Now we can talk."

Harry stays silent for a moment before talking. "D'you think that Neville will be okay?"

"I don't know. You think we'll pass our N.E.W.T.s?"

"You will. You think that we'll stay friends after Hogwarts?"

"Hopefully," Hermione answers back. "You think that you'll become an Auror?"

"Hopefully," He says, copying Hermione. "You think that you'll get married?

"With a bit of luck. Do you?"

"No," He says. "Nobody'll want to be with someone who is being chased by a mad murderer."

"That's not true," Hermione says quietly. "D'you think that you'll defeat Voldemort?"

"With a bit of luck," He laughs. Hermione's eyes twinkle. "Would you ever try and fight him?"

"Perhaps. I would try to _avoid_ battles with the darkest wizard of our time, of course, but all in good time it might be a good idea," She smiles. "Would you ever want to leave Hogwarts?"

"I did a few times before. But probably not anymore. Would you?" Harry says casually.

"Oh, no," Hermione says seriously. "I couldn't! Would you ever move back with the Dursleys?"

Harry's feet slip off of the table with a thud. "No! _No._"

Hermione laughs lightly, leaning back against the soft feel of the couch.

"I'm really thirsty," He says, sitting up. "I really want to drink something."

"Then have some water." Hermione suggests wisely.

"Hmm," He says thoughtfully. "No, I'll have some butterbeer."

Hermione's eyes widen and her arms fall off of the armrest. "_Butterbeer?_" She inquires incredulously.

"Yeah, something spicy and tangy."

"Where are you going to find butterbeer at two in the morning?" Hermione asks critically, standing up from the couch wildly.

"The kitchens, where else?" Harry says nonchalantly, and carelessly walks over to the portrait hole.

"_No!_" Hermione said stubbornly. "You'll get caught!"

But Harry had already closed the portrait door behind him.

Hermione still stood in front of the door, rather awestruck at first, hair wild and cheeks flushed, when she fumingly walked back over to the couch, trying to immerse herself in something else indifferently.

She waits.

"I have some." A whisper says through the air, and Hermione's head snaps to the portrait hole. A shadow is walking over to the couch.

"Do you?" Hermione asks acidly, and eyes the butterbeer darkly.

"Yeah, want some?" Harry asks, holding up two goblets in one hand.

"No!" Hermione says waspishly. "Not at this hour!"

He thrusts a goblet of butterbeer into her hands. "Don't be such a spoilsport." He breathes onto her face, and drinks heartily from his own goblet.

Hermione sips reluctantly. "It's two in the morning." She mutters.

He refills his glass. "So?"

She rolls her eyes, sipping slowly before slamming her glass down onto the table. She doesn't hold her alcohol very well, and gets drunk fairly quickly.

"Would you ever go out with Ginny again?"

Harry hesitates. "No. Would you ever drink an entire bottle of butterbeer?" He asks with a wicked gleam and mischievous grin.

"I'm afraid perhaps I will have by tonight. Would you ever go out with someone older than you?"

"Probably not. Would you ever…" He contemplates his question. "Uh… go out with Ron?"

"Probably not." Hermione says, lifting her glass to her lips. Her brain spins slightly.

"Are you drunk already?" Harry asks her, looking at her slightly blank eyes.

"Probably." She answers carefully, and leans back into the couch.

"I'm not drunk," Hermione says carefully, her face decidedly red. "If I would be I would be passed out."

"I'm drunk." Harry says reasonably, and smiles wickedly.

"I hate butterbeer. And I hate you for giving me some." Hermione says acidly, shooting Harry a nasty look.

"Would you ever go back to the Muggle world?"

"Sometimes I think about it. Would you ever sacrifice yourself for someone else?"

"I dunno," Harry answers wildly. "I don't like being noble."

Hermione laughs. "Of course you don't."

"Would you ever kiss me again?" Harry asks carelessly. Hermione's brain lurches. Now is not the time to throw up again. She swallows.

"Yes." Her answer rings in her ears. Not now.

"I'm surprised, you know."

_And the moment is ruined_, Hermione thinks dryly. Her stomach is turning.

"Are you?"

"Yes. I thought that after I broke up with you – er, it wouldn't be like that anymore." Harry says, his voice a little cracked.

"That's rubbish."

"I didn't know." Harry says.

They look at each other for a moment, brown eyes meeting green, both rather confused but determined.

None of them knew which one of them leaned in first.

Their mouths meet in a blind connection of desperation and despair, Harry clawing at her neck almost in a hungry way. Harry's mouth is radiating off butterbeer and only butterbeer, but Hermione doesn't really care. She doesn't care if this would be sloppy and wet or anything of the sort – just to be back here is enough for her.

"Oh," She says, but doesn't really care.


	9. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter.

Summary: Harry and Hermione find comfort in one another as the war rages on and when trouble occurs at Hogwarts Harry is determined to set Hermione out on her own, but obstacles in his way bring Harry and Hermione together nonetheless. But can one part of the relationship survive?

_AN_: Oooh, I love this chapter!! Confessions, confessions, and some obstacles. R&R.

_Chapter 8_:

Hermione wakes up in a bed of warmth and a certain someone – _Harry_. She sighs, looking idly up at the canopy above her. How did she land in a bed with her best friend and in all literal terms, her ex-boyfriend.

Except she didn't really know about the _ex_ part anymore.

She very much regrets the night before, she remembers kissing Harry, she remembers butterbeer, and she remembers a little bit more that is not particularly safe to mention.

"Ooh _no_…" She mumbles, realization coming to her. Hermione rubs her eyes, her pupils drying up immediately into something bloodshot. She doesn't remember if she threw up, since she doesn't hold her alcohol very well at all.

She swallows at her tongue. She can only taste butterbeer.

"Oh," Hermione says again, and throws her head back against the pillow in frustration. "_Crap_."

"'Mione? Is that you?" A groggy voice asks, recognizable as Harry's. She sighs, and Harry sits up slowly. A bottle of assumable firewhiskey rolls off of the sheets and hits the floor with a breaking crash.

"Oh no." She says, looking at the bottle shards on the floor.

"Why are you here?" Harry asks confusedly, and Hermione eyes him with tight lips. "Oh." He says slowly, realization coming to him as well. He claps a hand to his forehead.

"I know."

"How could this have happened?" He asks worriedly, his face in his hands and his voice muffled.

"I know," Hermione says again, looking at him sternly. "Butterbeer and firewhiskey."

"I will never drink again." Harry mutters, his face still in his hands. He swears into his palm.

"Harry," She says reasonably, laying a hand on his back. "It's over. There's nothing to take back–"

"Oh yes there is!" Harry says suddenly, his face resurfacing from his hand, his face wild. "I kissed you!"

Hermione doesn't see this be particularly important at the moment, and looks at him carefully. "Yes?"

"I'm not _supposed_ to kiss you! I _can't _kiss you! We're broken up!"

She is not expecting this, but it went as a blow to her heart. Her shoulders fell, her soul deflating slowly. Hermione knew that she was probably shooting daggers at him right now with her glare, but can't really do anything about. She doesn't care if she _actually_ would stab him with a dagger right now.

She knew that he had only kissed her because he was drunk and she only let him because she was equally drunk _and_ head over heels in love with him, but he did get a bit carried away. She knows that she's only mad about this because she's in love with him and that they're supposed to be together in her mind. Harry is supposed to put all the 'danger and death' talk aside and see that he really _does_ love her, because –

"What?" He asks defensively, the wild look from his face gone. Her nostrils are flaring and her face is red, pinkish and nipped.

"_What the hell is wrong with you?_" Hermione hisses vigorously, venom spitting from her voice.

"What?!" Harry asks again, ever more defensively.

"Yes, you kissed me because of the butterbeer but you could have stopped after that! You can't always blame it on the alcohol, Potter!" Hermione yells, pointing a finger at him. She's getting up from the bed now, ripping apart the hangings, her cheeks flushed from anger, her nostrils flaring, and her hair wild and frizzy. "You got carried away in yourself and your feelings!" She adds somewhat dramatically.

"I was drunk!"

"Oho!" Hermione shouts back. "I _told_ you, you can't always blame it on alcohol!"

"But it's only fair!" Harry retorts.

"Harry, when we locked eyes a minute before we kissed, I could tell, you weren't drunk! I wasn't drunk! After that second is was all _chance_ and _choice_! And apparently you don't think about your choices! You _have_ to find the line between choosing what is right and what is easy! What is right and what is easy here, Harry?"

"No! _That's not fair!_" Harry says loudly. A grunt comes from the bed next to them. Hermione eyes the bed darkly, huffing, and storms out of the dormitory.

She goes three steps before tears start leaking out of her eyes. She stops, a heavy breath leaking out of her lips. "Oh no," Hermione says, and hastens down the rest of the stairs.

What if she was pregnant? What if she was pregnant with a child when she was only _eighteen years old? _What if Harry didn't want her child? What if Harry would _die_ or marry someone else?

Such _bright_ outlook.

Hermione laughed a somewhat false giggle. There was no proof that she was pregnant, she should stop worrying about the surreal. She laughed again a false laugh.

But she really should check if she was.

Her life is dependent on this answer, and everything could change on this answer. This response. The seconds were ticking. Her forehead was trickling with salty sweet as she paces the room, waiting. Waiting.

A large buzzer goes off and Hermione jumps, nervously putting a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes are dry off of lack of blinking, but she needs to see this now. Now. Her life is still most dependent on it.

She walks forward and peers onto the table.

_Blue means yes, red means no_.

Her eyes shut close suddenly. What does she even want the answer to be?

_She doesn't want to be pregnant, not when she's this young, when the father broke up with her because he thinks she's incompetent… No_.

Her eyes open and she checks the color slowly.

She's never been more color-blind as she inches forward, her heart thumping in her brain. _No no no_.

She's hovering over it, and –

_Blue_.

She gasps, shrinking back in horror. How. Could. This. Have. Happened?

_No. No. No. No. No!_

Hermione wants to collapse on the floor but instead cries, crying out tears onto the ever-clear blue color. _No_.

"Oh my god." She mumbled in between tears, her legs making her drop onto the floor, staining her robes with only tears and tears and tears. She cries, the only thing she really understands is that she's pregnant with Harry's child. She could not think of anything more unfortunate.

Hermione wails, louder and louder but not really caring. She's pregnant. _Pregnant. _With a child. _A baby_. She has all of the responsibility at he moment and she feels like she has lost it. She has gotten herself pregnant. With the boy-who-lived.

"Oh god." She whispers, clutching her knees to her stomach. The tiles around her are cold and icy, when Hermione hears a girlish cackle.

_Of course_. She thinks bitterly. _You must expect Moaning Myrtle if you're in the girls bathroom._

"Oooh, it's know-it-all Granger!"

Her eyes are puffed up from crying. She slowly gets up, when she hears Myrtle fiddle with the pipes slightly. A stream of water runs out of a sink and stains the floor. She cackles again.

"Myrtle, not now, _please_." Hermione begs pleadingly, slipping on the wet tile to get up. The hem of her robes are wet. Her shoes are dripping.

"In a bad position?" She simpers horribly, and Hermione brushes past her, pushing herself out of the door, wiping her eyes – which doesn't do much since her fingers are wet themselves.

She needs to find Harry.

Hermione slips up the marble staircase, sniffing pathetically as she does so, following the familiar route to the portrait hole.

"Tapeworm." She mumbles to the smug portrait before it can even ask, and disappears into the common room.

"I – _Hermione!_" Harry says concernedly, slamming the book he was studying shut and getting up from the couch. "What happened to you?"

Hermione's hands go immediately to her face, which must be swollen and puffy – she realizes suddenly, and wipes her eyes.

"Harry, I need to tell you something." She says heavily.

He looks into her eyes with only a worried expression reflecting in his eyes, his arms securely around her bent elbows. "Oh god."

"It's nothing that bad." Hermione tells him convincingly, mostly doing this to reassure herself rather than him.

"What?"

"I-I'm pregnant."

_AN_: Haha, isn't this fun? R&R, please!

Okay, now that you know the big news, HELP NEEDED! I need to think of a name for Hermione's child. I cannot tell you if it's male or female, just send in ideas for both genders in a review or in a private message! I need help, I suck at thinking for ideas for names!! HELP NEEDED!


	10. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter.

Summary: Harry and Hermione find comfort in one another as the war rages on and when trouble occurs at Hogwarts Harry is determined to set Hermione out on her own, but obstacles in his way bring Harry and Hermione together nonetheless. But can one part of the relationship survive?

_AN_: We're back to St. Mungos. Let's see what Ginny and (hopefully Neville, if he's awake, you'll never know) will think of these news! Thanks for everyone who reviewed last time and gave me name ideas. :D You guys are great.

_Chapter 9_:

"So?" Hermione asks. "Are you going to take me back?"

Harry looks at Hermione for a couple of seconds, and then his face splits into a large smile. His grip on her elbows lessens, and he leans downward, capturing her lips in the softest kiss she has ever felt. He moves back slightly.

"Is that good enough of an answer?"

Hermione is halfway between laughing and crying, and does both at the same time, launching forward and throwing her arms around his neck, her tears falling into his shoulder. He hugs her back with a tight, never-let-go grip, and Hermione feels perfectly safe.

"I'm so scared."

"Why?" Harry asks gently.

"Because I'm eighteen and I'm pregnant." Hermione says.

"Oh, Hermione, I'll take care of it. Don't worry." He sooths, and she nods.

"We need to go see Ginny and possibly Neville. They'll want to know."

Harry and Hermione's hands are linked by the time they reach the floo powder room in St. Mungos, Hermione still laughing-crying loudly.

"Oh my god," She says aloud. "What will Ginny think?" She's smiling as she's talking, running toward the stairs and hastening to the correct ward.

She bursts through the door, laughing and crying again, heading straight forward to Ginny's bed, her arms outstretched.

"Oh, Hermione – _oh my god_, what is wrong?" Ginny asks worriedly, moving her dinner tray away. Hermione simply walks forward farther, hugging her around the neck.

"Oh, Ginny, you'll have to hear this!" She sobs, patting her shoulder and pulling away.

"Hermione," Ginny says eagerly, her eyes shining with a somewhat excited grace. "Neville's fine. He's awake."

Hermione's eyes widen, and turns around from the bed, where Harry has just entered (obviously not running to the ward like Hermione had been). "_Harry_!" She squeals, rushing forward to him and grabbing his arm. "Neville–" She starts.

"What?" He interrupts sharply. "Neville? What's happened to him?"

"He's _awake!_" Hermione says enthusiastically, and drags him over to his curtained bed.

"Neville…" She says keenly, smiling at the curtain.

Neville rips open the curtain, grinning widely. "I knew you guys would be the first to see me." He whispers kindly, and leans forward to hug both of them.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asks anxiously, and Neville simply smiles.

"I'm fine." He reassures, and Harry sits down on the bed to talk to him. Hermione gives him a large smile and a stroke on the shoulder before going over to Ginny's bed.

"Ginny. Do I have something to tell you." She says carefully, leaning down on the bed. Suddenly this entire situation seemed so much funnier. Hermione laughs.

"What?"

"Harry and I got drunk last night," Hermione says quietly. "And – er, sort of–"

"Oh my god, did you?" Ginny asks, wide-eyed.

"Well, _yes_–" Ginny claps a hand onto her mouth. "–but the next day he took everything back and blamed it on the alcohol."

"That–" She began venomously.

"Yes, I called him the same thing basically. But I was kind of afraid about – er, being pregnant, uh – after I left the dormitory…"

"But–" Ginny splutters helplessly. "You _can't _be pregnant, because–"

"I am." She's crying and laughing again at the same time. Ginny claps two hands onto her mouth again.

"_Oh my god_, Hermione!"

"Well, then I was really nervous about Harry not wanting the child, so–"

"You got back together, didn't you?" Ginny suspects slyly. Hermione laughs, nodding at the same time.

"Oh, you must be brave, Hermione. Aren't you scared?"

The smile slides off of Hermione's face quickly, her hands prickling with sweat. "Not that much." She lies quickly. Ginny grins at her.

"Hermione," She says. "I know that you're not the one to worry that much, but you _are_ only eighteen years old and _pregnant_ with the Boy-Who-Lived's baby–"

"Ginny," Hermione says slowly, holding up a hand. "What are you trying to do?"

"Oh," She says. "Nothing, honestly. It's just that–"

"Hermione, we should get going." Harry's voice says sternly from the other bed. Hermione smiles to Ginny and gets up, entangled her arm in Harry's after giving Neville a small goodbye wave.

"We'll see you later." She whispers to the two, and exits the ward with Harry.

"We don't need to go to the tearoom again, do we?" Harry asks in an undertone to Hermione, who laughs and shakes her head.

"No. We can go back to Hogwarts if you insist." She says sweetly.

"Well, then lets skip the peppermint tea today and get back to school." He says firmly, and drags her along to the stairs.

"Are you _sure_ you're pregnant?" Harry asks skeptically in the common room later that day. Hermione flashes him a look.

"I guess–"

"I mean, wasn't it right after that morning–" He examines observantly.

"You _really_ don't want a child, do you?"

"No!" Harry says defensively. "That's not what I meant, I was just checking. I mean, I don't want to – er, get my hopes up…"

Hermione smiles at him and climbs over to the couch to sit next to him. She slips a hand around his waist and cuddles closer. "You're going to be a father," She says in a whisper. "No change in that, whether you like it or not."

"Yeah."

"Sorry." Hermione says carefully, stroking a loose hair stand out from his forehead.

"Don't apologize. I'm excited."

Hermione thinks that he is probably lying, but won't ask about it. Just to know that he's _trying_ and being involved is enough for her. He doesn't need to be bold about it.

"I love you, you know." Hermione says in a low tone. Harry twitches next to her.

He hesitates. "I love you too."


	11. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter.

Summary: Harry and Hermione find comfort in one another as the war rages on and when trouble occurs at Hogwarts Harry is determined to set Hermione out on her own, but obstacles in his way bring Harry and Hermione together nonetheless. But can one part of the relationship survive?

_AN_: Ahahaha! Love this CHAPTER! But don't get too attached, please. I'm not. For a reason. Sorry for the shortness of the chapter earlier. R&R!! ;P

_Chapter 10_:

"Which one do you think looks better?" Harry asks Seamus and Dean, holding up two black traveling robes. The two boys turn around; Exploding Snap packs both in their hands. Dean's eyebrows rise as he sees the cloaks.

"Traveling cloaks, Harry?" He asks confusedly. Harry nods.

"Yeah," He says nervously, eyeing both of them. "I'm going to Hogsmeade with Hermione today and it's still snowing. It'll go wrong if not _every single thing is perfect_. I have to be warm."

"In style and fashion," Seamus comments, looking at the two traveling robes. "They look fancy."

"Yes, well, for a reason." Harry says slowly, folding up both cloaks and sitting down on the common room chair.

"What reason?"

Harry looks at both Gryffindors for a moment, contemplating his situation. He grins, shaking his head. "You'll find out soon enough."

Hermione is upstairs, a small musty diary in her lap and a matching, small musty quill in her hand to go along. Her tiny handwriting is littered across every inch of the page, black ink scribbled into every corner. Most of it looking like this:

_Hermione Jane Potter. Hermione/Harry forever. HG/HP. Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Mr. and Mrs. Harry James Potter. Hermione Potter. Harry Granger. Harry James Granger. Hermione Granger Potter. Hermione Jane Granger Potter. Hermione Jane Granger and Harry James Potter. _

There were even hearts on the page, perfect in lines and pretty in colors and proportion. Hmm… and now for a cupid. She was going to draw a cupid with perhaps a harp.

Wait –

_A cupid?_

"Oh god." She mutters, looking down on her doodles.

She doesn't even laugh. It's not even funny. Hermione hates Valentines Day. She hates cupids and hearts and accompanying harps and frilly lace and red and pink and white.

Hermione smiles.

No, it's not quite the same anymore. Valentines Day is not the worst holiday in the world. It may be the best day to her right now, once she pushes past the negatives and sees the positives. Valentines Day is her and Harry's day. _Their_ day. She still hates pink, red, white, frill, lace, and cupids, but of course, she loves Valentines Day.

Hermione slams the diary shut, closing the golden clasp on the front and stroking the cover fondly. She stores it away, slipping down the stairs to the common room.

"_No_, for the last time, I _can't_ tell you – oh, _Hermione_!" Harry exclaims, stopping his speech to Dean and Seamus, who were smirking rather smugly. She smiles warmly to him, walking down the rest of the stairs and moving over to him, pecking him on the cheek. Dean and Seamus exchange a look.

"Hi, Hermione." Seamus says awkwardly, still looking rather smug.

"Good morning," She says sweetly back, and turns to Harry, who is blushing rather deeply in his chair. "When do you want to go?" Hermione whispers.

"How about now?" He says quickly, jumping off of the chair and grabbing blindly one of the traveling cloaks and slipping it around his shoulders.

Hermione notices him as she puts on her scarf and coat, the long black and sleek robe draped over his shoulder like silk. He does look extremely elegant and rather handsome, his hair smoothed back a bit and his glasses polished.

"How much Sleakeasy's in there?" Hermione asks slyly, a fond tone to her voice. Harry smiles at the corner of his mouth.

"A lot. You can knock on it."

Hermione is glad that he doesn't lean down and ask her to knock on his head, so she moves a little closer to him and slips her hand over his. 'What are you so nervous about?" She whispers soothingly. She can even see sweat shimmering on his forehead.

"Nothing. Of course not, nothing." He says anxiously.

Hermione laughs. "Yes, of course."

He pushes open the gates, cold flooding into the castle and flowing over their fronts. Hermione's hair flies back, her coat pressed against her arms.

"So…" She asks carefully, wrapping her coat around her tighter. "Where are we going in Hogsmeade?"

The snow is flurrying onto her hair, but she doesn't care. "I dunno, perhaps the Three Broomsticks or–"

"Oh, don't say Madame Puddifoot's." Hermione says quickly, her fingers on his elbow.

"I wasn't going to," Harry says with a smile. "How about… Scrivenshaft's or Dervish and Bangs?"

"Sure, I could use a new quill." She ponders lightly, and snuggles closer to him to warm up.

"Cold, are you?" He asks kindly, and shakes off his traveling cloak, fastening it around Hermione's shoulders.

"Thanks." She whispers back.

They reach the Hogsmeade gate, starting to walk through the snowy village where kids and other students are running and screaming.

"I love winter." Hermione comments warmly, letting her head fall onto his shoulder.

"I love you." Harry tells her tenderly, and softly brushes their lips together.

"Can we sit down?" Harry asks a little nervously, his voice trembling. Hermione sits down on a snowy bench, brushing off ice from the wood. Harry sits down next to her. His legs are shaking terribly, Hermione notices, but she doesn't do anything.

She looks sideways, at the perfect scene before her. Gentle snow falling down, kids shrieking and skidding on the ice, two snowmen standing by four frozen trees, the tinkle and color of the candy store, Honeydukes, sparkling behind them. It was the perfect winter scene, with Harry to top it off –

"Oh," Hermione turns around, gasping at what she saw.

Something large was sparkling in front of her, Harry's eyes tearing and shimmering with the 'something large'.

"_Harry_, I–"

"No, please." His voice is choked and strangled.

Harry is on his knee, the snow melting through his pants, a shining ring in a black box. Hermione's eyes immediately start melting, tearing, her face crying out as much as she can muster and her hands collapsing in her lap.

"Oh my god." She says.

"Hermione," Harry says. "I've never ever done anything like this before. But it feels the best I've ever felt, I love you and I honestly can't believe how good this feels. I never thought I wouldn't be scared about this moment, but I'm not. I'm really glad and this feels so _perfect_ it's unreal. But all in all," He takes a rattling breath. "W-Will you marry m-me?"

Hermione smiles, choking out the only thing that she can think of. "Yes, Harry, I _love_ you!" And she lunges at him, crying and laughing over and over and over again, knocking the ring out of his hand.

"That ring is beautiful, you know." She tells him in muffled tones.

"Good." Harry says, relieved. He pushes her to arms length.

"Oh, I forgot how much it sparkles." Hermione says fondly, grinning at the ring. Harry slides it out of the box, and puts it in her hand.

"Here," He says kindly. "It's now yours."

Hermione laughs loudly, crying at the same time, and puts the ring onto her finger, lunging at him again with her arms clasped permanently around his neck. She doesn't want to let go.


	12. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter.

Summary: Harry and Hermione find comfort in one another as the war rages on and when trouble occurs at Hogwarts Harry is determined to set Hermione out on her own, but obstacles in his way bring Harry and Hermione together nonetheless. But can one part of the relationship survive?

_AN_: Three more chapters to go. You'll see why in this one. You'll also see why I told you not to get attached.

_Chapter 11_:

"Harry, get out of the way." Hermione snapped sharply, shoving him away from the bathroom door hurriedly.

She pushes Harry away by his stomach, slamming the door shut behind her as she collapses by the toilet and vomits into it, her brain spinning.

"Hermione, are you okay – _oh_, ugh–" Harry asks worriedly, walking into the bathroom and then backing out again.

"You can come in, Harry, don't be such a wuss." Hermione says bitterly, wiping her mouth and standing up slowly. She wipes her forehead.

"What _happened_?"

Hermione looks at Harry for a moment, her face rather surprised. "Morning sickness, Harry."

"What – _oohh_." He says after a second, contemplating morning sickness with a disgusted and revolted look on his face.

"It's your fault I'm throwing up," Hermione says rather rudely, brushing him past. "And it's your fault you'll soon be a father."

Harry ignores her comments, smiling. "It sounds surreal."

"What?"

"That we're going to be parents. _We're going to be parents, Hermione_." He says with a smile, gathering her up in his arms, looking deeply into her eyes. She smiles.

"Yeah," Hermione says. "You know, I'm actually surprised I'm still throwing up. I'm already fat."

"You're not fat," Harry tells her sharply. "How many months are you into it?"

"Sixth and a half out of nine. It's probably no longer morning sickness; it might be just the stomach acting up to something I ate. The entire body is really sensitive when pregnant." Hermione tells him wisely.

"Ugh, When are these _mood swings_ kicking in?" He asks slyly, leaning against the doorway. She shoots him a look.

"Oh, shut up."

He laughs. "Looks like they're already here…" Harry says with a sigh, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "It's going to be a loooonng two and a half months…" He finishes heavily. She smiles out of the corner of her mouth.

"You know, we should start thinking of names." Hermione suggests the next morning at breakfast.

"We don't know what gender it is yet, Hermione."

"So?" She brushes off. "We can think of any names that come into our heads."

Harry looks at Hermione for a moment skeptically, and then takes a bite out of his buttered toast. "Fine. If it's a boy…" He ponders for a moment. "… how about Daniel?"

"Perhaps," Hermione takes a sip of pumpkin juice. "If it's a girl… how about Leta?"

"Wasn't that a Roman mythological person?" Harry asks critically.

"Yes, but it's a pretty name." She defends. He shrugs.

"If it's a boy what about Demeter?"

Hermione blinks in contemplation. "How about Angela?"

"What about Max?"

"How about Astaria?" Hermione shoots over.

"Luke?"

"Victoria?"

"Nick?"

"Ella?"

"Crowley?"

"Ankaria?"

"This is getting ridiculous." Harry stops suddenly, looking at her expectantly.

"Well," Hermione wrings her hands. "We really _do_ need a name for our child."

"Yes, but do we have to think of it now?" He asks irritably.

"Well, _no_, but it would be nice to get it over with," She thinks. "How about we both write down five names on a piece of parchment – none of the ones we already said just now – and then we can share."

She was _so_ eager, how could he refuse?

"Fine." They both slid out a piece of parchment from their bags, a bottle of ink, and a quill. For Hermione, it was the nicest quill she had, with polished stems and sharpened tips. For Harry, it was a broken-in-half stubby quill, with old ink that stained through the parchment.

For a moment, they both looked at their papers blankly.

Hermione then began scribbling away madly, Harry still looking at his parchment with a somewhat lost and empty expression. He wasn't cut out for coming up for names… yet this _was_ his child –

"Done!" Hermione chimed sweetly, and Harry's head shot up.

"Er – how about we share after Charms?" He asks tentatively. She peers over at his list.

"You haven't written anything!"

"That's why I want to share after Charms." He said slowly. Hermione tilted her head at him sternly, and then snatched up her own paper.

"I have Arithmancy." She mutters disapprovingly, sweeping out of the common room.

Harry sighs deeply, snatching up his own paper and throwing it into his bags. Why does their child even _need_ a name? It certainly _wants_ a name, but there is a difference between _wants_ and _needs_, something the Dursley's were always oblivious to when Harry said he was starving or thirsty.

"Fine." He mutters to his own bag, and stalks off to go to Charms. He'll have hopefully enough time to finish his list there.

Hermione smiles at her perfected parchment. She's in Arithmancy, but she's already read chapter thirty-one and therefore doesn't have an assignment. She's smoothed out all of the ink blotches, she's cleaned up any mistakes, lined up her names flawlessly, numbered them all (it wasn't _her_ fault she had seven names in her head instead of five), and finally had even doodled a small drawing of a crib and a baby on the bottom of her parchment.

Hermione tightens her lips. Something was missing…

She sticks her tongue between her teeth as she realizes – _a title_ – and titles her page royally _Baby Names_.

She has written down her seven favorite names; Aidian, Lily, Jaida, Ella, Helena, Cecily, and Melanie. She only _hopes _that her child is a girl. Otherwise she wouldn't be able to use any of her names, especially since Harry has probably only written down boys names that she _probably_ doesn't like.

Harry is in Charms, his mind working furiously during his multitasking. He still needs to master the Reflecting Charm, and he still needs to write down his five names or Hermione will be livid at him. Well, he's written down _some_, it's not his fault he only likes four names instead of five. He's not meant for this 'naming business' anyway. Scribbled on a paper, with no numbering, titles, perfections, or smoothed-out spots, he has written down four names in blotchy ink.

Jason, Ethan, Dmitri, and Aaron

There, that should do, that should be good enough for her. He crumples up the parchment and stuffs it as neatly as possible into the corner of his bag and goes back to work on his spell.

"So," Hermione says stonily at lunchtime. "Did you finish your name list?"

"Yes, I did." He says carefully, and searches for his list in his bag while Hermione pulls out her scroll of names. By the end of the lesson she had furled it close in a tight scroll and bound it together with a silky pink and blue ribbon.

"Okay, so let me see your names," She takes the crumpled up list out of his hand and smoothes it out. Her eyebrows rise. "There are only four."

"I don't want any more than four children." Harry retorts quickly.

"Well, neither do I, but your assigned task was to write down _five_ names–"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake Hermione, just read the names!"

"Well," She says ponderingly. "I _am_ impressed. They're nice names. Now read mine." Hermione hands him her scroll carefully.

"Huh," Harry says, reading the names and giving it back to Hermione. "I'll be fine with any of them."

Hermione jumps in her chair excitedly, a laugh forming on her lips. She hugs his neck. "I can't wait for it." She whispers in his ear.

"Hermione, I got an owl from St. Mungos just now saying something about Neville. I think I should go and see what's up." Harry tells her worriedly, pecking her on the cheek and pocketing his wand.

"Should I go with you?"

"No, it's fine, you should rest more." He tells her soothingly, and gives her a quick hug before heading out of the common room door.

Hermione waves warmly to him in a goodbye as he closes the portrait hole behind him. She sighs into her book, looking at it interestedly.

Hermione has been reading for two and half hours straight, when she hears someone burst through the portrait hole rather anxiously.

"Oh god, Hermione – you better come quickly, McGonagall's office–" Dean and Seamus tell her nervously, both with rather red faces. She closes her book anxiously, as both of them pant for breath.

"What?" She asks sharply. "What's happened?"

"It's Harry–"

"What's happened to him?" She asks urgently, shooting up from the couch and stalking over.

"He's–" Dean starts breathlessly. Hermione pushes him aside roughly, running out of the portrait hole and rushing up the stone steps to McGonagall's office with only one thing in her mind and throbbing in her head.

_Something's happened to Harry, something's happened to him, something happened to him, what has happened_ –

"Professor, what's happened?" She asks, her heart beating in her ears loudly and quickly.

"Oh," McGonagall says slowly. Her eyes are glistening with tears, her voice terrified. "Please, Miss Granger, take a seat." McGonagall's hands readjust on the desk, fingers trembling slightly.

Hermione tentatively takes a seat. Her legs are restless. She doesn't want to sit; she wants to find out what's happened to Harry, to her fiancé, to the _father of her child_.

"What's happened to him?" She whispers, horrified – _petrified_.

Before she can ask another question, hard footsteps are thundering up the stairs and bursting through the door. A very windswept Rufus Scrimgeour and livid looking Fudge enter the office, their robes billowing behind them.

"What's this? Potter is–" Fudge barks loudly. Scrimgeour silences him.

"Quiet, Fudge. You came along on your own personal request, not on command," He hisses. Fudge quiets. "Besides, you are no longer Minster of Magic." Fudge turns a nasty red and purple color in embarrassment.

Scrimgeour turns to McGonagall, quite horrified behind her desk on this unexpected interruption. However, her voice is quite calm when she speaks.

"Excuse me, Minister, but this–"

"There is no right nor wrong time for this," Scrimgeour mumbles firmly. He looks very strong at the moment, firm and demanding as he straightens up. "I am not here to play foolish games."

"I do not know how fast rumors can fly along the Ministry, but this must be uncalled for–" She begins reasonably again, but Fudge cuts her off.

"I don't care, McGonagall! The Ministry has every right to know what's happened!" He says furiously, stomping his foot, his nostrils flaring and his hair wild.

"Control your temper, Fudge." Scrimgeour.

"But," McGonagall says slowly. "It is as true as possible."

"Are you a witness?" Scrimgeour says sharply.

"No," McGonagall says again. "Nobody was."

"What is as true as possible?" Fudge asks sharply, turning to the Minister.

"Haven't you been listening, Fudge?" He asks disapprovingly. "Harry Potter is _dead_."

_AN_: MUUAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! R&R!


	13. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter.

Summary: Harry and Hermione find comfort in one another as the war rages on and when trouble occurs at Hogwarts Harry is determined to set Hermione out on her own, but obstacles in his way bring Harry and Hermione together nonetheless. But can one part of the relationship survive?

_AN_: And it's birthday time! For a certain newborn. Hehe. Time to see what gender it is! But. Oh. Father is not here. OH, he's not returning, the father of his child – he's GONE! Ah, a tragedy. Thanks for the tremendous waves of reviews. R&R!

_Chapter 12_:

"What?" Hermione asks awkwardly, tears wanting already to go out of her eyes but still staying in tightly. "H-He's dead?"

Fudge and Scrimgeour both look at Hermione as though she just showed up.

"Yes, girl, Harry Potter is dead. So much for all this 'The Chosen One' rubbish." Fudge confirms smugly, and Hermione looks at McGonagall for some sort of evidence or proof that he is actually correct. Harry simply _can't _be dead, but McGonagall wasn't looking at her, she was blowing her nose and dabbing her eyes on a tissue.

"Oh god." Hermione says tearfully, and bursts into a stream of tears.

Her stomach lurches and Hermione freezes. "_Oh my god_."

"What, Miss Granger, are you alright?"

Hermione shakes her head. She wants to say something, but she can't open her mouth. She feels a sudden pain moving down from her stomach. McGonagall stands up hastily, but Hermione clutches her stomach painfully. She's dying, it certainly feels like it – but she has _a child_, she was going to be married –

"Miss Granger, oh my!" McGonagall says worriedly.

"What – what's happened to her?" Scrimgeour asks sharply, rather harshly.

"I – I–"

"Oh," Hermione moans breathlessly, and closes her eyes. Another piercing pain shoots through her.

"We need to get her to St. Mungos, Scrimgeour!"

The Minister strides over to the fireplace. "Isn't the floo network working, McGonagall?"

She throws a handful of floo powder into the fireplace, where it goes up into emerald flames. Hermione feels herself being pushed into the fireplace. The warmth is making her want to faint.

"St. M-Mungos…" She mumbles, but can't go on. However, she's already flying through the fireplace, her elbows knocking onto the stone beside her and her hair whipping into her face.

She falls face forward onto the oh-so-familiar carpet in the floo powder room and moans pitifully. She doesn't have enough strength to get herself up, but she scrambles up the best she can. McGonagall appears in the roar of the fireplace a second later.

"Miss Granger, dear, you need to hurry to the next open ward." She instructs quickly, and helps her get up.

"What h-has happened?"

"You're having your child," She says shakily. "That is most probable."

Hermione moans again. She couldn't now, Harry wasn't here, he was dead – he _had_ to be here, he was the father –

"Come on, Miss Granger, we must hurry." She helps her get to the counter, where the witch behind it boringly instructs them to go to the Hippocrates Smethwyck ward as soon as possible. McGonagall steers her away firmly, Hermione still feeling rather light on her feet and sick.

"In here…" She says quickly, and pushes her into the empty ward. The Healer appears almost instantly and walks forward to McGonagall.

"What's happened to her?"

"She's having her child." She tells him patiently.

The Healer drops his clipboard and surveys Hermione. "How old is she?"

"Eighteen," McGonagall tells him through gritted teeth. "Now can she be treated?" The Healer nods and steers Hermione toward a bed, handing her a papery nightgown.

"Here," He says gruffly. "Put that on and I'll see to you."

Hermione closes the curtain weakly and put on the nightgown as fast as she could, burying herself in the bed.

She lies there for some time, just contemplating what's going to happen to her as she rocks back and forth on her knees uncomfortably, pains piercing into her every once in a while.

The Healer draws back the curtain slowly. "So. Are you ready?"

Hermione doesn't want to nod and closes her eyes, hoping everything would turn out fine. For once in her life, she is very, very clueless.

Hermione is asleep, pain keeping her in a light sleep instead of a hearty and well-needed deep sleep. She twitches in her sleep, she can hear running water.

Her eyes open slowly, and she peers through the curtain. The Healer was bending over a sink, washing something… something small, apparently –

"Oh," She says longingly, as the Healer brings her a small bundle – a pink blanket wrapped around something small and soft.

"It's a girl," The Healer says softly, pointing toward the pink blanket. "And she's perfectly healthy."

Hermione nods, tears coming to her eyes as she takes the bundle of perfection to her. She was _beautiful_.

"Where is the father of this child?"

Hermione's heart stops for a moment, tears falling out of her eyes more strongly now. She can't cry in front of a Healer, in the hospital, in front of her_ child_.

"H-He's dead." She really hoped that people wouldn't be asking this often to her. The Healer withdrew.

"Oh. Sorry about that." He apologizes, blushing.

"That's fine." She strokes her daughter's head carefully… She was gorgeous.

"Do you have a name for her yet?"

Hermione looks up for a moment, thinking carefully. Harry had never suggested a girl name. He had never told her what sort of name he really enjoyed, he never pointed out a specific name and told it to Hermione.

"No," She says. "Not yet."

As the Healer moves away Hermione wipes away her tears and considers this. What should she name her daughter? Her only child? She's never going to have a child again; she belongs to Harry and _only _Harry. And this child deserves a name that Harry would have chosen.

"Miss Granger, dear, are you feeling alright?" McGonagall asks carefully, walking forward. "Oh my, she is beautiful!" She exclaims, seeing the baby. "What are you naming her?"

Hermione feels another pang of pressure. There was only one way she could still honour Harry with this child. She would name her after his mother.

"Lily." She answers softly.

"Is it Lily Potter or Lily Granger?"

Hermione ponders it carefully. _This is for Harry_, she reminds herself.

"Lily Potter. Definitely."

"It's a beautiful name and a nice decision. Now how long would you like to stay in St. Mungos?" She inquires.

"I could leave now, couldn't I?"

"No, perhaps you should stay for a few days. Maybe a week…"

"No, I'm really fine, I can walk around and everything, Professor–" Hermione retorted logically, and slid out of bed.

"Perhaps only three or two days or rest should have you back on your feet. With the right potions, of course…" McGonagall agreed reluctantly, and faced the Healer.

"About two potions a day for two days and she'll be fine." He said almost on cue.

"Wonderful," She said happily. "Now, Miss Granger, this is the only exception I'll be making. But, since, you already mastered the Switching Spell and it's reverse charm, you will not have to hand in you homework this week."

Hermione beamed. "I already finished it, though."


	14. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter.

Summary: Harry and Hermione find comfort in one another as the war rages on and when trouble occurs at Hogwarts Harry is determined to set Hermione out on her own, but obstacles in his way bring Harry and Hermione together nonetheless. But can one part of the relationship survive?

_AN_: Oh. Spotting and somebody in St. Mungos… You know what 'spotting' means? I do. Wait till you see. One more chapter to go and then this is over!

_Chapter 13_:

"How are you feeling, Hermione?" Seamus asks apprehensively. Hermione smiles in his direction. It feels so _odd_ not to have Harry around. Not to have someone close and connected to talk to. She feels so alone.

She had fallen asleep at midnight last night, crying herself to sleep about Harry. The man she was going to marry, the father of her child, and now, he was _gone_. It seemed so surreal.

"I'm fine," She answers kindly, and slides her schedule out of her bag. "Oh." Hermione says suddenly.

"What?"

"We only have one more week to go here."

"Oh god, that means N.E.W.T.s are close." Dean says sulkily. Hermione looks at him reprovingly, but turns back to her eggs fairly quickly again.

"Well, that's good for you, isn't it?" Seamus observes, turning to Hermione again.

"What?"

"With a child and everything it must be pretty stressful. Once you get out of Hogwarts you'll have so much more_ time_ and _energy_."

Hermione nods, but doesn't really agree. She loves it here, with classes and teachers and learning, and now with Lily to take care of. The only thing that was truly missing was Harry around. She still can't believe that he's truly _gone._ She's simply waiting for him to burst through the doors and come back to see her, but no… To think that the last time she saw him he was going to St. Mungos on Neville's account –

Hermione stops all of a sudden with her eating, her fork hitting her plate. Why was he even at St. Mungos? Had Neville really told him to come? Nobody had told her how he had died, where he had died, _why_ or _who_ had killed him… everything was so foggy to her.

"Professor, can I talk to you for a moment?" Hermione asks hesitantly, cracking open the Headmistress office door.

"Of course, Miss Granger, but quickly, please."

She slides into the office, slipping into a chair, but before she can even open her mouth, McGonagall opens hers.

"Your two friends are coming out of St. Mungos."

Hermione's eyes bulge out protuberantly, and she smiles. "Oh, that's great!"

"Miss Weasley and Longbottom will arrive shortly after lunch. But now, you came for a reason. What is it you wish to tell me?" She asks sternly.

She tries to push Ginny and Neville returning into the back of her mind.

"I don't have anything to tell, I have something to ask."

"Alright." McGonagall says shortly.

She hesitates for a moment. "I've been pondering this for some time, and – _well_, I would really like to know who killed Harry."

McGonagall takes a deep breath, her hands shaking slightly. "Alright. You may know, if anyone should, you have the right to," She paused. "Potter was murdered by Lord Voldemort. He was lured to St. Mungos on false premises so he would be alone, then steered over to the forest close to the hospital. He was put into a trance and killed. However, he was killed with honour and he died proud face to face with Lord Voldemort."

Hermione's breath is stuck in her throat along with her voice. She seemed to have left it with her brain, which wasn't functioning properly either at the moment. Her eyes slide back into focus and she swallowed.

"Er–" She said carefully, a lump in her throat forming.

"I realize that it is harsh news to take." McGonagall reassures her.

"No, it's just–" Hermione sighs. "Well, I wasn't expecting that."

There is a large pause in between the two, where Hermione silently cries and McGonagall finally says something. "You will be late for History of Magic, Miss Granger." She says softly, and Hermione nods, getting up from her chair slowly.

It had been the gloomiest, moodiest, sulkiest day of her life as she sat through History of Magic, only waiting for the minutes to tick by and Ginny and Neville to get here, her last real _hope_ and friends.

"Class may be dismissed…" The ghost-teacher says boringly, drifting through the stone wall awkwardly, and Hermione charges to the door.

She rushes over to the Great Hall, where only a few students have started lunch, and sits down with the few people at the Gryffindor table.

She sits there for seven minutes and thirty-two seconds when she has the wind knocked out of her by something with flaming red hair. Hermione falls down onto the wooden bench, hugging Ginny back.

"Oh, sorry, didn't mean to knock you down." Ginny says apologetically, letting go of Hermione and tucking a strand of red hair away from her face. She smiles.

"What are you smiling like that for?"

"I want to see her."

"Who?" Hermione asks.

"_Lily_, of course! And Neville wants to, as well!" Hermione laughs at Ginny's eagerness, seeing Neville charging up to them.

"Neville!" She says, and hugs him as well before leading both of them back up the marble steps and heading toward the hospital wing.

"How are you two feeling?" Hermione asks kindly and Neville grins.

"I'm fine. I'm really happy to see Hogwarts again." He says cheerfully, and Ginny nods along with him.

"Where is she?" Ginny asks.

"She's in the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey said she would take care of her when I was in classes." She knocks on the wooden doors and the nurse peers through the crack.

"Oh, Miss Granger – and _oh_, Longbottom and Miss Weasley, you're back, too!" Madam Pomfrey says surprisingly, and Ginny nods. "I suppose you'd like to see her?"

"Yes." Hermione responds, and Madam Pomfrey hands her Lily.

"I had fun taking care of her today, she's _adorable_." She said longingly, fingering with the frill of her dress.

Hermione hands her to Ginny, who swoons over her.

"_Oh!_ She's _beautiful_, Hermione, and looks just like you and Harry."

Hermione hadn't noticed that. But now that Ginny pointed it out, she sees it as well. She has her father's green eyes, her mother's brown hair, and her father's mouth, with her nose. She has her eyebrows and her facial structure, but she can still see Harry in her. It's comforting to Hermione.

"Here." Ginny hands her to Neville, who gives her back to Hermione after another minute of praise.

"I better give her back to Madam Pomfrey." She says, and knocks on the door again. The nurse takes her and ushers them off, where Ginny, Neville, and Hermione all head back to the Gryffindor common room.

Crookshanks jumps into Hermione's lap the moment she sits down on the couch, and Ginny laughs. She looks at Hermione seriously then, her expression concerned.

"How are you feeling?"

"What?"

"I mean, with Harry and everything being gone." She says gently.

"How do you know that he's gone?" Hermione asks sharply.

"The Daily Prophet didn't keep it quiet." Neville says quietly from the armchair.

"Oh," She says bitterly. "I should have known."

"So? How do you feel?"

Hermione hesitates. "Lonely. Empty. Abandoned. Old–"

"You're not old and you're not abandoned!" Neville says sharply. "The years before you were with Harry you were as independent as can be!"

"Well, things have changed–"

Once again, the common room door opens and their Professor walks in, looking very serious and taken-aback.

"Miss Granger, may I see you for just a moment?"

Ginny and Neville exchange panicked looks, but Hermione gives them an 'okay' sign. She walks toward McGonagall.

"Yes?"

"There's been a spotting."

"A _what_?" Hermione asks.

"A spotting, Miss Granger, a spotting. Mr. Potter has been spotted in the same forest he was predicted to be murdered in.

"What? But that means he's not dead!"

"We do not know how trustworthy the witness is, but however–"

"Who's the witness?" She interrupts.

"Sybill Trelawney." McGonagall says shortly.

"Trelawney?" Ginny asks suddenly from Hermione's back, standing up and striding over.

"Yes, Miss Weasley. Professor Trelawney says that she surely saw Harry Potter in the forest. A bit pale, peaky, thin, and wearing torn clothes, but she said that he was most surely alive."

There was a sudden silence in the common room. "So? Didn't anyone investigate?" Hermione asks irritably.

"Not yet, but it is being done probably right now." McGonagall says calmly.

Hermione's eyes bulge disbelievingly. "BUT HE COULD BE GONE BY NOW!" She explodes, turning into an anxious frenzy. She turns to face Ginny, who was looking rather bewildered.

"Sybill came in quite a time after she said that she had found Potter in the forest. She had been in hysterias, and therefore was not able for questioning if Potter is _still_ in the forest."

"SO? Somebody could have checked _instantly!_"

The common room opened again, Rufus Scrimgeour at their faces again. Ginny gasps and drops Crookshanks. He looks furious.

"Is he in there?"

Scrimgeour looks at Ginny peculiarly. "No. I believe that he was a phantom of Trelawney's mind. There is no trace of Potter in the forest."

"That's not true." Somebody says suddenly, and Hermione looks over McGonagall's shoulder at the intruder.

Seamus and Dean are standing in the doorway, looking very windswept and alarmed, but determined nonetheless.

"What?"

"We both saw him as well, when we came to visit Neville in the hospital." Dean says rather hesitantly.

Hermione looks from McGonagall to Scrimgeour, from Dean and Seamus to Ginny, all looking extremely confused.

"Lead the way, boys." Scrimgeour mutters, and everybody follows him in a firm run behind him.


	15. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter. I also do not own the song mentioned at the bottom, Once Upon These Days.

Summary: Harry and Hermione find comfort in one another as the war rages on and when trouble occurs at Hogwarts Harry is determined to set Hermione out on her own, but obstacles in his way bring Harry and Hermione together nonetheless. But can one part of the relationship survive?

_AN_: Hello, time to say goodbye. This has been a lovely fic and you are all wonderful people. Truly. Now, bye, so do email me sometimes, okay?? Please? Just an FF PM, please, a fanfic personal message. Private message, whatever. R&R for the last time.

_Chapter 14: The End:_

Hermione is stomping in the mud, following Seamus and Dean toward the forest. She has soot on her nose from floo-powdering to St. Mungos, and the hem of her robes are splattered in mud. She doesn't think she's ever been part of a stranger group, as she shoots a dark glance behind her to Ginny and Neville.

"I hate this." She murmurs to both of them.

Scrimgeour still has his cloak swishing behind him, like a large towering bat and lion at the same time, his 'mane' flying furiously. McGonagall has half of her robes in dirt, and Seamus and Dean seem to be the only ones who actually know where they were going.

"Are we almost there, boys?" Scrimgeour barks to Dean and Seamus.

"Almost, just around this clearing…" They both murmur uncertainly, and push away a branch of leaves to climb into a clearing.

Hermione steps on a twig as she climbs over the high bush, scrambling to get over it. She can hear Ginny slipping behind her, shrieking slightly as she lands into the mud, the back of her hair and robes now completely covered in mud. Nobody pays any attention.

"Here we are, it was right–" Dean starts, turning into a clearing, but stops a second later, clearly petrified.

Hermione hurries around the corner with McGonagall and Scrimgeour in the lead. Something is on the dirt.

"Oh, _Harry!_" She shrieks, and sees Harry's clearly dead body lying sideways in the dirt.

"Is he dead?" McGonagall asks.

Ginny and Neville reach the body by now, Ginny slipping again into the mud and Neville gasping. Everybody except Scrimgeour looks like they're about to start crying at this pitiful and pathetic sight before them.

The Minister leans down and touches Harry's hand.

"Cold as an ice cube, Minerva." He says heavily, and gets back up again.

"Oh my." McGonagall says, holding a handkerchief to her mouth.

"And no bullet, dagger, or any sort of Muggle device seems to killed him. It is confirmed that he was killed with _Avada Kedavra._

At this point, Scrimgeour's wand spits out a few green sparks but doesn't do anything else. He pockets it, turning to Dean and Seamus suspiciously.

"Are you sure he was alive when you saw him?"

"Yes!" They both shout, rather desperately, looking at the body in clear dismay.

"Well," He says heavily. "This was gruesome enough for all of us. Minerva, will you escort these kids back to Hogwarts?"

"Of course, Minister." She says shakily, and cocks her head toward the opening of the clearing. Hermione and the other Gryffindors follow.

She did not want to see that. Harry's pale, dead cold body sprawled out in front of her, _dead_ and _murdered_… It did nothing to ease her spirit. That mental snapshot of Harry lying icily on the mud was engorged in her brain. She shook it, and tears fell down her cheeks.

"There will be a funeral, Minerva." Scrimgeour mumbles from the front, and McGonagall nods, trembling.

This did not ease her spirits at all.

"Are you coming, Hermione?" Ginny asks, knocking on the bathroom door. She nods to the door even though nobody can see her, and zips up her dress from the back.

"Yes, I'm coming."

She leaves the bathroom, Ginny dressed in a long gown, black, with a formal gray jacket thrown over her shoulders. Her hair is back in a smooth and silky bun, and Hermione's is up in a curly up-do. She didn't spend much time on her hair or her makeup, or what she was wearing. This was a funeral, not a formal dinner party or gathering. She wiped the last tears from her eyes before walking down with Ginny, where Neville, Seamus, and Dean were all dressed in their black formal wear. Hermione gulped around the lump in her throat.

"You ready?" Seamus asks softly, looking more at Hermione than Ginny. She nods.

"Yeah, let's go."

They all walk out of the Gryffindor common room, stopping at the hospital wing to pick up Lily (where Madam Pomfrey was positively in tears) and then went over to McGonagall's office.

"Professor, we're all here."

McGonagall opened the door immediately, also in black robes. She was crying into her gray napkin again, and explained that they would travel by portkey. They all gathered around a small tin can with the words _Sleakeasy's_ _Hair Smoother_, and spun over to what Hermione assumed was the funeral yard.

She had her hands out in front of her, stopping her fall on the hard, cold earth. It was only firm dirt here, at the funeral yard, where several tombstones and graves were around. There were small wooden chairs to sit on, all sitting in the dirt, and a large black casket in the middle. Hermione cries, crying at the sight of the casket in front of her where she only knows that Harry is in it. She still has that shimmering ring on her finger, and she probably will never take it off. Ginny gets to her feet, going over to the seat next to her Hermione.

"Oh god, this is harder than I thought it would be." Ginny says tearfully, looking at the casket mournfully. Hermione nods, but doesn't look over.

More than fifty people are gathered around the casket now, Hermione is probably the only one who really is dying inside right now at the sight of Harry in the casket. McGonagall and other teachers were on the left side, all comforting each other. There was no speech. Everybody simply cries, some people wailing, some just mourning stonily. After ten minutes, the crowd slowly starts getting up and dispersing slowly. Hermione and Ginny get up but Hermione only does it to move closer to the casket. Ginny stands next to her.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes," Hermione says softly. "I'll make it by."

"We all will."

"My life may never be the same again," She says in between tears. "B-But I will still love h-him. No matter how dead he might be."

Ginny pats her on the shoulder reassuringly. "What will you do after you graduate?"

Hermione's grip on Lily tightens. "I don't know. I'll need to take care of Lily."

"I'll help you, you know."

"You'll be in school still." Hermione brushes off.

"No, but Neville will be there. And I'll visit for every holiday I have."

Hermione doesn't nod or say anything. Ginny gives her and Lily a small hug and then walks over to Neville. Hermione's likes it best this way, her alone in front of the casket, with only Lily by her side.

While things may look rough right now to her, she knows that she'll make it through. Everything will be alright if she simply lets it happen. She'll make it through.

_What's this life anyway?  
What's it to you and me?  
What's it to anyone?  
Who are we supposed to be?  
Make me a storybook  
Write me away from here  
I need a different now_

_Where we can wear each other for awhile  
I'll lend you my tears if I could borrow a smile  
I'll get through tomorrow somehow today  
Happy After..._

_Once upon these days_

_There's four roads to anywhere  
Four ways to everything  
We were unbreakable  
We spoke our destiny  
Let's take a moment out  
Go were we never go  
Let's make a new world now_

_Where we can wear each other for awhile  
I'll lend you my tears if I could borrow your smile  
We'll get through tomorrow somehow today  
Happy After..._

_Once upon these days_

_Then one day we'll find  
When we're looking back at this time  
Wondering how we've come so far from this  
When we close our eyes_

_What's this life anyway?  
What's it to you and me?  
What are we doing here?  
Who are we supposed to be?  
I'll take a better world  
I'll take anything  
I'll take our little world now_

_Where we can wear each other for awhile  
I'll lend you my tears if I could borrow your smile  
We'll get through tomorrow somehow today  
Happy After..._

_Once upon these days._


End file.
